


Mending the Empty Bones

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Ladyhawke AU, Magic, Sometimes when two people really love each other they get cursed, Steve and Peggy grew up together, like ya do, set in medieval Italy, steggyhawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steggy Ladyhawke AU.  Fate pulled Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers apart, only to give them a second chance.  But the Bishop’s jealousy doomed them.  Always together.  Eternally apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate my first year writing in the Steggy fandom, and my 100th story posted to AO3.
> 
> Inspired by my love of Ladyhawke and [ Meri’s gifset](http://typhoidmeri.tumblr.com/post/145275221623/are-you-flesh-or-are-you-spirit-i-am).
> 
> ALSO: I know nothing about medieval Italy, so I’m stealing liberally from the film which I’m sure is just as inaccurate as me (synth soundtrack anyone?). Some quotes are directly from the movie dialog. Liberal reworking of scenes and setups from the movie to suit my Steggy take on things. Some of the scenes are straight up pastiche and we’re all just going to deal with that because when the crack source material is this good, the crackfic follows.
> 
> MORE ALSO: The title comes from Basia Bulat’s “Heart of My Own”

_ “Are you flesh, or are you spirit?” _

_ “I am sorrow.” _

  
  


**Chapter 1**

She was the most beautiful thing Steven had ever seen in his entire life.  Having been alive for only eight years, this wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary.  But he knew, when he saw her, that he would love her until his dying breath.

Steven had been sent by his mother, beyond the city walls, as soon as the city’s impenetrable gates were opened for the morning.  He was to gather the herbs Mother needed for her practice.  He was small, but sharp eyed, with nimble fingers and a keen mind.  The sun had not yet risen completely by the time he made his way back to the safety of the city walls.  

And that’s when he saw her.  

The wagon was loaded with possessions and provisions.  It was for a grand household.  Patrons of the Bishop, no doubt.  The heavy draft horses paused at the drawbridge as the driver spoke to the city guards.  

That’s when she peeked out, emerging from beneath the canvas at the back of the wagon and dropping down to the ground.  She stood, silhouetted by the rising sun.  

Steven raised his hand, shielding his eyes.  

Her hair was a riot of dark, unruly curls.  Her eyes, when she looked at him, were the color of the brandy Phillips and the other monks distilled, rich and warm.  

“Margaret,” came a sharp voice.

She startled and scurried back into the wagon, just as it proceeded across the drawbridge and into the city.  Steven stood where he was, watching.  

The canvas lifted again and she peeked out, smiling at him.

 

* * *

**FOUR YEARS LATER**

 

“Steven!”

Steve spun around, facing his mother across the courtyard.  She was angry.  He immediately ran for his bag, forgotten beneath the tree.  By the time he raced back to her side, his breath was wheezing.

She shook her head and pinched his ear, pulling him toward their tiny hovel.  Two rooms, separated by a worn length of cloth.  But it had a hearth and a roof and was more than many people had.  Steve knew enough to be grateful.  He’d lived long enough to know what became of widows and small children when the man died.  He knew how hard Sarah worked to keep them from starving.  And he knew that he had to do his part.  Lately, it had been a challenge.  He wanted to spend every second with Peggy.

“I needed those herbs this morning,” his mother said, frowning as she sifted through the wilted foliage.

He ducked his head.  She took the kettle off the fire and poured the hot water into an earthenware mug.  She sprinkled herbs from the dish on the mantle into the water and handed it to Steve.

He sipped the hot water, feeling his lungs relax.  Sarah sighed, sinking into the stool next to the fire.  She took the bag and emptied it onto her apron, sorting through his harvest.  Shaking her head, she looked at him.

“She’s a grand lady, you know.”

Steve frowned, feigning ignorance.  “She?”

Sarah shook her head again.  “I know she cares for you, Steven.  You two have been inseparable for years. But she’s no longer a child, and playmates will soon be a thing of the past for her.”  She looked up at him, her eyes kind and sad.

Steve took another drink and looked away.  He understood the truth of his mother’s words.  Peggy was from a different world and their time together was finite.  As the only daughter of a wealthy, titled, family, her marriage was a matter of great importance.  Her marriage would be used to solidify family ambition and gain influence.

“I know, Mother,” he said quietly.

She frowned.  “I know you love her.  I love her too.  But she’s too grand for the likes of us.  Maybe if your father hadn’t died - ”

Steve set the mug down.  “I told Phillips I’d help him with his cart.  He needs it to minister to the wretches outside the city walls.  I should go.”

 

* * *

 

“Steve!”

He didn’t slow, but he could hear the footfalls pounding down the muddy lane after him.  She caught him, yanking him to a stop.  He turned to face her, frowning.

Peggy looked at him, brows drawn together, lips pursed in a frown.  Her hair was windblown, coming free from its ribbons.  Her shawl was hanging off one shoulder, dragging in the mud.  “Why didn’t you stop?”

“You should be with your tutor,” Steve said, though privately he thought teaching Peggy to sit demurely in a chair was about as useful as teaching a war horse to knit.

She narrowed her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest.  “What’s the matter with you?”

He shook his head, turning away.  “Nothing’s the matter.  I have to get these straps to Phillips.  Go home.  You shouldn’t be in this part of the city.”

Peggy did not go home.  She fell into step next to him.  They both scrambled out of the way as several of the Bishop’s guard galloped down the narrow road.  When the coast was once again clear, they resumed their walk.  She kept pace with him, waiting.

“You’re to be a lady one day,” he said firmly, looking over at her.

“And?” she pressed.

He sighed, shaking his head.  “You shouldn’t be with the likes of me.  You’re too fine.”

“I will be the judge of that,” she said imperiously, righting her muddy shawl.

Steve looked up, beseeching the heavens.  “I tried, Lord.  I did.”

 

* * *

**TWO YEARS LATER**

 

He could hear the giggles before they turned the corner.  And there they were, Peggy and Dottie, in their finery, laughing madly.  He jumped down from the windowsill and Dottie screamed.

Peggy smiled at him and immediately shushed Dottie.

“ _ Steve, _ ” Dottie cursed, “you’re always creeping out of the shadows.”  She looked over at Peggy and seeing the expression on her face, she groaned.  “No,” she said, pulling on Peggy’s arm, “let’s go, you promised me.”

“In a minute,” Peggy said, brushing off Dottie’s grip as she hurried to Steve.

He was cold, from waiting outside and when she pressed her palms to his cheeks, the heat seemed to go right through him.  She kissed him gently and he leaned into it, toes curling.  He was vaguely aware of Dottie stomping away.

Peggy took his hand and pulled him down the corridor.  They hurried across the courtyard and into the stables.  It was warm, from the heat of the animals, and they climbed the ladder to the hayloft.

Steve spread out a blanket they often used for this purpose,and they sat close together.  They watched the moon through the partially open hayloft door.

“How was the party?” Steve asked.

Peggy shook her head.  “Let’s talk of something else.  How is your mother?  Is she still sick?”

Steve nodded sadly.  “It gets better for a day or two, but then she gets worse again.”

Peggy hugged his arm and leaned into him.  Steve turned his head and kissed her again.  She returned it eagerly.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Steve asked grimly.

Peggy ducked her head and then looked away, upset.  “He’s old, practically Papa’s age.”

Steve sighed.  “Phillips says he’s a good man.”

Shaking her head, Peggy said, “I don’t want him.”  She turned to Steve.  “I want  _ you. _ ”  She kissed him again, fiercely.  “Leave with me,” she said.  “Tonight.  Let’s run away from here.”

Steve stared at her in the dim moonlight.  He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted what Peggy was offering.  

But it would never work.  His mother was so ill.  There was no way he could leave her.  And she wouldn’t be well enough to travel with them.  They would undoubtedly be pursued.  Even if they could find someone to marry them, Peggy’s family would take her back.  God only knew what they would do to Steve.  And even, if by some miracle, they managed to get away and start a new life, what kind of life would it be?  Peggy was used to grand things, not hovels, not going to sleep with her belly aching from hunger, shivering from cold.  What kind of life would she have as his wife?  

“I ... can’t,” he said sadly, hanging his head.

She made a frustrated noise, but leaned into him.  “I love you, Steve.  Always.”

“I love you, Peggy.”

 

* * *

 

“Did you hear?”  

Steve looked up and motioned Phillips inside, standing up so the old monk could have the stool.  Steve walked over and checked on his mother.  She was finally sleeping, but she was feverish.

He turned back to Phillips.  “Hear what?”

“Your little friend,” he said gruffly.  “She ran off last night.”

Steve’s heart seized in his chest.  “Peggy?”

Phillips nodded.  “They caught her trying to swim the city moat.  She caused a huge racket.  Guardsmen brought her home.  I guess it was the last straw for her betrothed.  He told Lord and Lady Carter to keep her.”

Steve smiled brightly.

Phillips sighed, shaking his head.  “Don’t get excited,” he said.  “Word is they’re sending her to Rome, to live with one of her uncles.  Her father thinks her mother has been too indulgent with her.”

“Where in Rome?” Steve demanded.

Phillips gave him a look, kind, but sad.  “It doesn’t matter, Steven.  You can’t follow.”  His expression softened.  “They’ll find another arrangement for her.  Something to benefit the family.”

Steve paced back and forth in the small space.  “Where is she now?  At the house?”

Phillips shook his head.  “They already left.  She’s gone, son.  I’m sorry.  I wish you could have said goodbye.”

 

* * *

**TWO YEARS LATER**

 

In the years since his mother had died, Steve did any odd job he could find, trying to make ends meet.  It often wasn’t enough.  He lost the small home he’d shared with his mother.  The new Bishop’s taxes were too high.  So now he rented a bed in one of the overcrowded boarding houses.  He couldn’t afford a room.

Steve had always been small for his age and it certainly wasn’t an asset when trying to find work.  He wasn’t strong enough to labor.  He was a talented artist, but he had no patrons and no way to secure an apprenticeship with any of the local masters.  So he took work here and there, where he could find it.  He often went hungry and cold.

Recently, a new healer was brought to the city, on order of the Bishop.  Abraham Erskine didn’t seem overly fond of the Bishop, but he certainly was a gifted healer, the best Steve had ever seen.  And perhaps more than simply a healer.  Like any man with a good head on his shoulders, Steve had a healthy respect for mysticism and magic.  Erskine seemed steeped in both.

Steve scooped up the coins and set the bag of herbs he’d collected on the table.  He was turning away, when Erskine said, “May I?”

Steve looked at him, frowning.

Erskine held out his hand, palm up.  “Your hand,” he said, “may I?”

Frowning harder, Steve stepped closer and let Erskine study his hand.  He turned it over methodically.  He finally released Steve leaning back, motioning to the empty stool on the opposite side of his desk.  Steve took a seat.

“Your mother was the healer, yes?”

Steve nodded.  “Since before I was born.”

“She was a gifted woman,” Erskine said.  “I suspect that without her expertise and care, you wouldn’t have lasted your first winter.”

Steve nodded.  It was something his mother had said often enough when he was growing up.

“She gave you life,” Erskine said, “more than once.  That kind of love marks a person.”  He took a breath, “What if I said I could, perhaps, return some of your potential?”

Steve frowned.  “Potential?”

“You’re a good man, Steven,” Erskine said.  “You were robbed of your potential by sickness and circumstance.  Your mother’s sacrifice and care has marked you in ways you cannot fathom.  I would like to give you back some of the life you were meant to have.”

“In return for what?” Steve asked cautiously.

Erskine shook his head.  “Aquila’s new bishop, Pierce, is a man of boundless ambition.”

Shaking his head, Steve asked, “What does that have to do with me?”

“Perhaps nothing,” Erskine admitted.  “Or perhaps a great deal.  Only you can decide.  But it will behoove us all to have more good men.”

 

* * *

**SIX YEARS LATER**

 

Abraham Erskine looked up, startled to see the young woman, a lady, standing in his parlor.  It was either very late at night, or very early morning, depending on one’s perspective.  Erskine had been awake all night, trying to perfect several temperamental tinctures.

“Pardon me,” he said, wiping his hand on the cloth at his belt.  “I didn’t realize I had a guest.”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head.  “I apologize.  I’m afraid I rather bullied my way past your sleepy maid.”  She looked around uneasily, her features drawn, expression bleak.  

Erskine wondered if he had ever seen someone so sad.  “May I help you?” he asked gently.

She pursed her lips together and shook her head.  “I don’t believe so,” she said.  “I was ... I was looking for the healer, and they sent me here.  But I’m afraid I was - “

“You were looking for Sarah,” he said.

She nodded, smiling tightly, her eyes glassy.  “I didn’t realize she had passed.  So much has changed.”  She seemed to catch herself, giving her head a hard shake.  “Forgive me.  My name is Peggy Carter.”

Erskine nodded, motioning to the pair of chairs before the hearth.  Seeming to not know what else to do, Peggy finally took a seat, her hands wringing together in her lap.  

“I’ve been the healer here for some time,” he said.  “Going on seven years.”

She took a deep, unsteady breath and blinked quickly.  “I see.  She must have - It must have been shortly after I left.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” he said, “but are you in need of a healer?  May I be of assistance?”

She laughed unevenly.  “Not likely.  Unless you happen to know what became of Sarah’s son.” 

“Steven?”

Her eyes went wide and she blinked at him, leaning forward in her chair.  “You know him?”

“Most everyone knows him, my lady,” Erskine said fondly.  “He’s the Captain of the Bishop’s guard.”

 

END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

“Captain, there’s a lady here to see you.”

Steve looked up and met Rumlow’s eyes, nodding sharply.  Steve had no idea who had come to see him.  It was not unusual for a lady to request his presence, though most of them did not do so at the barracks stables.  And certainly not before dawn.  

Steve, and a contingent of the guard, had been up all night, rooting thieves and hoodlums out of the city’s growing shanty town.  The Bishop was squeezing every last cent from the people of Aquila.  Many of them were forced to turn to crime to survive.  Steve sympathized with them, but he had a job to do.  And he couldn’t allow the city to descend into chaos.

He absently brushed his hair back off his forehead, striding toward the courtyard.  Best not to keep a lady waiting.  As Steve stepped through the stable doors, the sun was just cresting the horizon.  He turned to face the lady in question, and came to a dead stop.  She was silhouetted by the rising sun.  

He would know her anywhere.

_ Peggy.  _

Somehow, unbelievably,  _ Peggy _ was standing in the courtyard looking at him.  She was, unmistakably, the girl he remembered.  But he couldn’t help but note the changes time had wrought.  She was taller than she had been the last time he saw her, though now, thanks to Erskine, he was at least a head taller.  Her figure, which had always showed promise, absolutely delivered.  Even beneath the demure lines of her dress and cloak, he could see the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts.  Her dark hair was long, parted in the middle and pulled back, falling down her back in soft waves.  Her features, always lovely, had sharpened in adulthood, the point of her chin, the arch of her brow, the perfect bow of her lips.  Her dark eyes were keen as ever.  

She was dressed in finery, and looked every bit the lady, though her features were pinched with what looked like worry.  She blinked at him, expression tight, distrustful.  Her gaze raked him over, head to toe.  She looked wary, but intrigued.  However, he could see when she realized exactly who he was.  

Her mouth fell open, her lips trying vainly to form words.

“My lady,” he said, stepping closer and gesturing toward the office.  Where they could have privacy.  S he allowed him to escort her inside, glancing up at him every few steps.   The office was blessedly empty and he turned to face her.  “Peggy?”

She stepped closer, expression filled with wonder.  Reaching up, she clasped his face in her hands, her gaze raking over his features.  “Steve?”

He nodded, covering her hands with his own.  “Yes,” he said softly.  He moved her hands, holding them within his own, against his chest.  A coldness moved through him, a fear that she had returned with her husband.  “You’re home.  How?”  

She blinked quickly, fighting back tears.  Taking a deep breath, she bounced on the balls of her feet.  “Oh, Steve, I - “  Rather than finishing the thought, she pressed forward, kissing him.

Closing his eyes, Steve leaned into the kiss.  He released her hands, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.  Maybe she did have a husband, but right now he didn’t care.  She tasted and smelled and felt exactly as he remembered.  She had haunted him for years.  How many lovers had he taken, always wishing they were her?

Peggy’s mouth was soft and she plucked at his lips with her own.  Her tongue touched his lip and he opened for her, groaning as she deepened the kiss.  Her hands fisted in the material of his uniform, holding him tight.

Finally, with a reluctant groan, he forced himself to end the kiss.  He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.  “When did you return?  How?”

She pulled away far enough to look up at him.  Her lips were swollen, her color high.  “Mother sent for me,” she said, slightly breathless.  “After her new marriage.”

Steve nodded, sobering.  “I’m sorry about your father,” he said gravely.

Peggy frowned tightly, nodding.  “Thank you.  I regret being a disappointment to him, but I couldn’t live the life he desired for me.”  S teve waited, holding her.   She took a deep breath.  “I never made any of the matches my family wanted.  Invariably, my suitors found fault.”

Steve shook his head, looking at her, elated that she had not married.  “Fools,” he said meaningfully.

She smiled at him and it was luminous.  Shaking her head, she said, “What happened to you?  How did you become the Captain of the Bishop’s guard?”

Shrugging, Steve led her to the chairs before the fire.  She took a seat, perched on the edge, one of his hands still clasped in hers.

Steve told her everything, his mother’s death, the lean years.  He was glad Peggy already met Erskine.  Steve explained how his own knowledge of local herbs led to him procuring supplies for Erskine.  And then, of Erskine’s offer, to help him achieve the life he was meant to have.

“But how?” Peggy asked.

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It was slow, at first.  For months the only effect was that I was starving all the time.  But then, slowly, I changed.  I grew taller, stronger.  Once that happened, I found work that paid better.  I could feed myself.  And once I started eating, I - “  He stopped, sheepish.  “Filled out.”

Peggy took her free hand and squeezed Steve’s wrist, and then up his arm to his shoulder, appraising his physique.  “I should say,” she agreed sagely.

He blushed, ducking his head to hide a smile. “When the new Bishop, Pierce, was appointed, there was no shortage of change,” he said.  “Many opportunities.  I joined the guard.”

“Clearly you excelled,” she said.  “Captain of the Guard.”

He nodded, still blushing.  “I’m good at it, I guess.”

She looked at him, searching his face.  “Are you happy, Steve?”

He returned her look, contemplating a reply.  “I don’t know,” he said softly.  “I can make a difference here,” he said.  “I like that.  But it’s been ... lonely.  I’m not certain how much value success holds when there is no one to share it with.”

She blushed, but eyed him suspiciously.  “Your men didn’t seem shocked that a lady was asking for you today,” she said.  “So perhaps you haven’t been too lonely.”

He looked at her seriously.  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, Peggy.  That’s never going to change.”

 

* * *

 

“Margaret!”

Peggy startled, taking a step back from Steve as her mother yanked open the front door.  Amanda looked at them, frowning, as they stood together in the courtyard.  Peggy gave Steve an apologetic look and scurried past her mother into the house.

“My lady,” Steve said, addressing Amanda as she descended the steps toward him.  He had always held great affection for Peggy’s mother, which was returned. 

She looked at him, trying to frown rather than smile.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, causing her to blush.  She tapped him lightly on the arm.  “I knew that girl would find you as fast as she could.  It’s why I didn’t tell her about your new position.  I was hoping to delay her.  She didn’t even wait for dawn to start her search.”

“Not very sporting of you,” Steve said with a smile.

Her expression sobered.  “Be gentle with her,” she said quietly.  “She’s deliberately sabotaged all of the matches her uncle attempted.  But wanted or not, I think the rejection has taken a toll.”  

Steve nodded.  “She is still a lady.  And I am not a lord.”

Amanda looked away.  “Margaret is no longer a young woman.”  She looked back to him, skewering him with her gaze.  “At this point, I want grandchildren more than political alliances.   _ Legitimate _ grandchildren.”

Steve swallowed thickly.  “My intentions are entirely honorable, I assure you.”

 

* * *

 

“Mother, really,” Peggy cursed, huffing as Amanda closed and locked the door.

“It’s not decent for you to be chasing after him.  He's the Captain of the Guard,” her mother replied, giving her a hard look.  “You two are no longer playmates.”

“I am well aware we aren’t playmates,” Peggy replied sourly.  “And since we aren’t playmates, we certainly don’t need a minder.  Angie and I are the same age.  She’s been married for years.  She has a herd of children.  I am a grown woman.  I don’t need a chaperone to supervise my visits with Steve.”

“I don’t trust you not to start on a herd of your own where that boy is concerned,” her mother countered tartly.  “If you cause another scandal, your stepfather will send you to a convent.”

“The last one was hardly a scandal.  And a chaperone wouldn’t have prevented it,” Peggy pointed out reasonably.

“Yes, well, last time you were trying to avoid the marriage, not hasten it.  For once in your life, Margaret, behave yourself.”

She groaned, throwing herself down into the chair.

“He’s a good boy,” her mother said.  “He will wait.  He already knows how ornery you are.  It’s highly unlikely you’ll scare him off with your antics.  Try being traditional just this once.”

“I don’t want to be traditional,” Peggy complained.

“Yes, darling, I know,” her mother said.  “But do it anyway.  The fair is next week.  He will most certainly be there.  He can escort you  _ with a chaperone _ .”

 

* * *

 

Steve pressed Peggy against the stable wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist, arching against him.  Both their breaths came short.  

“Where does your mother think you are?” he asked between insistent kisses.

Her nimble fingers burrowed under his tunic, biting into the bare skin of his back.  “In bed, chastely pining for you.”

He snorted, kissing down her neck.  

“How soon can we be wed?”  Peggy complained, digging her nails into the muscled planes of his back.

“Soon.”  He tugged at her shirt, growling in frustration.  “What are you wearing?  Are these trousers?”

“It’s a  _ disguise _ ,” she said, releasing him and tugging the shirt free of the trousers.  She pulled it over her head, dropping it to the ground.  She smiled wickedly and gave him a challenging look.

He cursed under his breath, gently touching her bare breast.  Groaning, he ducked his head, kissing along the tops of her breasts.  “Disguised as what, exactly?”

“A stable boy,” she said flatly, as if it were obvious.

He went very still and lifted his head, looking at her.  “A stable  _ boy _ ?”

She nodded, arching a brow.

Groaning, Steve shook his head.  Slowly, he moved back from her, putting space between their bodies.  She made a plaintive sound, pulling him closer.  He relented and wrapped himself around her, but he simply held her, burying his face in her hair.

“You don’t want - “

“Of course I want,” he said, cutting across her, pressing his hips into her, in case she needed more evidence.  “But I want you  _ in my bed, as my wife. _  Not against a stable wall like some tavern wench in search of a tumble. _ ” _

She growled in frustration, but leaned into him.  “Have you spoken to my stepfather?”

“I have,” he said.  She looked up at him and he sighed.  “I am certain we can reach an agreement.”

“What did he say?” Peggy demanded, bristling.

He kissed her again.  “He thinks you could do better.  And he’s probably right.”

Peggy huffed, burrowing against him.  “I don’t want better.  I want you.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly.

“You know what I mean,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Yes,” he said, holding her close.  “I know what you mean.”  He kissed her.  “This will happen, Peggy, in its own time.  There’s no need to rush.”

She grinned at him impishly and her fingers coasted over his groin, causing his breath to catch.  “No need?” she parroted.  “Surely you could think of some reason to hurry.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello, Captain.”

Steve turned and looked at Dottie, nodding deferentially to her.  It was market day and the streets were packed with vendors and shoppers alike.  “My lady.”

She sauntered up to him, touching him lightly on the forearm.  “Your presence has been sorely missed at the summer parties, Captain.  There was a time when you wouldn’t have dreamed of declining an invitation.”

He nodded, looking away.  “I’ve been otherwise occupied,” he said tightly.  

Steve ended the affair with Dottie months ago.  Long before Peggy returned.  But it was clear Dottie wasn’t opposed to rekindling the liaison.  He knew that her recent understanding with Hugh had just ended.

Dottie’s words were true enough.  When Steve was first promoted to Captain of the Bishop’s guard, he’d taken full advantage of his newfound social status.  Dottie had been one of several liaisons he had with wealthy married ladies of Aquila.  It wasn’t a particularly proud memory for him.

“Steve!  There you are.”  Peggy nearly barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, using him to right herself.  She was laughing, brushing her hair out of her eyes.  Her gaze lighted on Dottie and she smiled brightly.  “Dottie!”

Dottie was obviously shocked, but quickly recovered as Peggy hugged her.  “I didn’t realize you had already returned to Aquila,” Dottie said.

Nodding, Peggy returned to Steve’s side, looping her arm through his.  “I’ve been home for a few weeks.”

Steve knew Dottie had no trouble discerning exactly why he hadn’t been out socially.  She gave him a chilling look.

“Pardon me,” Dottie said, “but I must be on my way.”

“I’ll call on you,” Peggy said brightly.  “Soon.”

“Of course,” Dottie replied.  “It’ll be such a pleasure to catch up.  We can discuss exactly what we’ve both done since we last saw one another.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Move,” Steve snapped, jerking the reins.  Goliath balked, leaning back into his haunches, head down, spoiling for a fight.

“What are you doing?” Peggy chastised Steve, stepping between him and the horse.   She pushed her market basket against Steve’s chest, forcing him to hold it.

She patted Goliath’s neck, which seemed to mollify the great beast somewhat.  She moved along his flank, her hand skimming over his glossy black coat.  She ran her hand down his back leg and he dutifully lifted his foot for her.  She pried the stone loose, and released Goliath’s massive hoof.  

She threw the stone into the manure pile and turned to look at Steve.  “What’s wrong?”

He frowned, handing her the basket.  She removed a carrot and fed it to the horse.  Steve tried again and this time, Goliath fell in behind.  Steve led him into the stable and turned him over to a stablehand.  

Peggy followed Steve out of the stable and toward the office.  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said to her over his shoulder.  “Your mother won’t be pleased.”

He walked into the office and held the door for Peggy.  She closed it behind herself, locking it and setting her basket on the table.  Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at him.  “What is wrong?” she asked again.

He sighed, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.  “Dottie and I ...”  He left it there, unable to bring himself to explain any of the specifics.

Peggy frowned, watching him.  And then comprehension dawned.  She drew herself up to her full height.  “ _ Oh _ .”

“It’s not,” he started, pushing off the wall and approaching her.  “I mean, it was just - “

She stepped back from him, still frowning.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair.  “It was a mistake,” he said firmly.  “I ended it months ago.  She was angry.”  He looked at Peggy.  “She’ll try and use you to hurt me.”

Peggy bristled.  “I’m quite adept at dodging Dottie’s barbs, thank you very much.”

“Peggy,” he said softly.  “You are so important to me.”  She wouldn’t look at him and he sighed.  “I’m not proud of all the things I’ve done.  But it happened and I can’t undo it.  I didn’t want you to walk into Dottie’s snare blind.  You may have known her as a child, but she’s changed.  There’s a ... viciousness in her now that didn’t used to be there.”

Narrowing her eyes, Peggy studied him.  “So she’s vicious and you didn’t really care for her, but you still lay with her.”

He looked away and nodded tersely.

“And you won’t lie with me.”

His gaze snapped back to her.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means, Steve?  You can say whatever you want about propriety and respect, but actions are priceless.  You claim to love me and yet Dottie knows you in ways that I do not.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered hotly, yelling.  “My not - “  He stopped himself and took a short breath.  Much quieter, he said, “My not bedding you isn’t about me not wanting you.”

“Then what is it?” she demanded.

Exasperated, he said, “It’s about me trying to do things the  _ right _ way.”

“Maybe I don’t want to do things the right way,” she snapped.

Before he could formulate a reply, she grabbed her basket and unlocked the door, striding through it.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy took another drink of the wine.  It wasn’t watered down, much to her mother’s distress.  Peggy had to admit, her mother probably had a point.  She was feeling reckless.  And more than a little angry.

Dottie leaned in close.  “And that is Lord Randall,” she said, nodding to a man on the other side of the crowded room.  “A wealthy widower.”

Peggy looked at the man.  He was significantly older than she was, rawboned with sparse dark hair and a beaked nose.  “Wealthy you say?”

Dottie nodded sagely.  “And unable to perform in bed,” she said.  “Which can have its benefits.”

Peggy nodded, taking another drink of wine.  Dottie seemed to know a great deal of highly private information about a large number of the men at the feast.  Peggy knew Dottie was trying to shock her.  While some of the information was unexpected, the general basics of what went on between men and women in bed was hardly news to Peggy.  She’d spent years fending off unwanted advances and lewd propositions.

Peggy looked across the room and caught sight of Steve, before quickly looking away.  She knew he’d been watching her all night, skulking along the edges of the party, brooding silently.  He wasn’t precisely hunting her.  But it wasn’t entirely a protective gesture either.  She had no doubt he was guarding what he viewed as his.  The thought made Peggy shiver.

Dottie knew all about Steve, as well as Lord Randall, Peggy reminded herself.   She took another drink.

As the evening wore on, things became fuzzier.  Dottie started dropping hints about Steve, specifically, which Peggy tried to ignore.  It was difficult.  The room was spinning slightly and she felt so exposed.  Her jealousy at the idea of Steve and Dottie together was bubbling just below the surface.  Peggy finally broke away from Dottie and found a cool corridor where she could catch her breath.

Steve crept out of the shadows and she turned to face him.   “Are you going to speak to me?” he asked cautiously, stepping in close.

Irritated as Peggy was, she found that her wounded pride was quickly eclipsed by a desire to stake her own claim on Steve.  She was primarily focused on how absurdly, irritatingly attractive he was.  She closed the gap between them, leaning into him, feeling him sigh in relief.

He leaned down and she kissed him eagerly.  She wasn’t sure what he had in mind and she didn’t particularly care.  She shoved him against the wall climbed up him.  He abetted her actions, grabbing her backside and holding her against him.

She broke off the kiss and informed him, “I’m not all that innocent.”

He blinked at her, looking slightly dazed.  “I was never under the impression that you were particularly innocent.”

She frowned at him.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I spent a lot of time in the hayloft with you when we were fourteen,” he said meaningfully.

“Oh,” she said.  “Yes.”

He shook his head, concern clear on his features.  “How much have you had to drink?”

She snorted and then broke into laughter, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Peggy,” he groaned, gently setting her back on her feet.

She patted him on the side.  “I’ll keep you, but I’m still mad.  You’re going to have to make it up to me.”

He kissed her on top of the head.  “Noted.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yes, I know.”

She didn’t miss that he seemed quite pleased to be in her debt.  Peggy pushed herself back and took Steve’s hand, leading him down the corridor.  Much like Goliath, he stopped, rooting himself to the spot.  She looked at him.  “What?”

“Peggy, we can’t.”

“We can,” she said firmly.

He sighed.  “At least make a proper exit,” he said.  “I’ll meet you in the stables in a quarter of an hour.”

Peggy frowned, but nodded, turning and heading back into the feast.  She found Dottie and was saying her goodbyes when Dottie cut her off and ushered her across the room.  Peggy wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.

Peggy suddenly found herself being introduced to the Bishop of Aquila.

Pierce looked her over from head to toe, his eyes narrowing before a cold smile curved his lips.

Peggy could tell the Bishop had once been a sinfully attractive man.  But he was past his prime.  The gaze that may have once been inviting was now openly predatory.  There was a cold intellect in his eyes that was clearly assessing her.

She curtsied for him.  “Your Grace.”

He insisted on taking her hand.  “My lady,” he said, smiling.

She felt chills prickle at the nape of her neck as he pulled her closer.  She was vaguely aware of Dottie leaving as he asked, “And what is your name?”

“Margaret,” she said quietly, her unease growing.

His eyes never left her.  Peggy regretted the gown she had chosen to wear.  It displayed more of her cleavage than was really acceptable.  She’d worn it for Steve, of course.  To tease him, to remind him of what he was missing.  But it was clear that Steve wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

The Bishop kept her at his side, asking her questions about herself and her family.  He seemed surprised, and then intrigued, to learn that she was unmarried.  

“Much to my family’s dismay, I never made a successful match,” Peggy said, hoping to perhaps give the Bishop the impression that there was something wrong with her.

If anything, he seemed more interested.  “Perhaps the lord has saved you for some greater purpose.”

Peggy’s insides went cold at his words.  As quickly as she could, she made her excuses, feigning a headache.  She was all too aware of how closely the Bishop watched her as she left.

Once outside, Peggy ran for the stables.  She saw Steve and threw herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him tightly.  

He held her close.  “What’s wrong?  What took so long?”

Peggy couldn’t answer, she only shook her head, pressing closer to Steve.  “Take me home,” she said.  She looked up at him.  “ _Your_ home.”

He looked down at her, meeting and holding her gaze, obviously worried.  He finally nodded.  “All right.”

 

END CHAPTER

 


	3. Chapter 3

The short journey to Steve’s home seemed to sober Peggy substantially.  She was quiet, holding on to him tightly as Goliath made his way through the shadowed city streets.   When Steve first joined the guard, he lived in the barracks.  He still stayed there occasionally.  But he had used some of his newfound wealth to purchase a modest home in one of the nicer parts of the city.   He handed Goliath off to the sleepy stablehand and took Peggy inside, lighting a candle.  She looked around, wide eyed, but didn’t say much.  Steve shooed the maid away, with an admonition to hold her tongue about Peggy’s presence.

Steve led Peggy into the bedroom, closing the door and lighting several more candles.  Peggy wasted no time, stripping down to her shift before Steve had finished lighting the candles.  She dove beneath the covers of his bed, only her eyes peeking out.   He stood there, watching her with a mixture of astonishment and amusement.  “Eager?” 

She nodded, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Shaking his head, he kicked off his boots and stripped himself to the waist.  As he walked to the bed, she scooted over, making room for him.  He slid beneath the covers, pulling her close, trying to get her to look at him.  “What happened?” he asked.  “You’re too quiet.”

She looked up at him, shaking her head.  “It’s nothing.  Dottie introduced me to someone tonight and ... I didn’t like him.”

“Who?” Steve pressed, frowning, gently rubbing circles on her back.

She released a deep, shuddering breath, sinking against him.  “The Bishop.”

He felt a cold sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.  He held her tighter.  “You would do well to stay as far away from him as you can manage.”

She nodded, her fingers curling possessively around his arm.  “How dangerous is he?” she asked quietly.  

Steve took a deep breath and released it slowly.  “He’s a powerful man, and within the city walls, he answers to no one.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

He looked away, jaw clenched tightly, concentrating on the feel of Peggy in his arms.  “He can be quite ... singular, when in pursuit of something he desires,” he said.  He looked down at her.  “Please, stay away from him.”

She nodded and looked away.  “I have known men like him, who made my skin crawl with a look.  I know what darkness lurks in their minds.”  She glanced up at him.  “But none of them were the Bishop of Aquila.”

Steve wanted to tell her it would be okay, that the Bishop was harmless, that he was a good man.  But Steve could not speak those words.  He ground his teeth together tightly.  “I will not let him hurt you,” he swore.

She gave him a small smile and nodded.  “I know.  But he is the Bishop.  And you are his servant.”

Steve shook his head.  “Peggy I don’t care what I swore, you are too important to me - “

She pressed her fingers against his lips, silencing him.  She gave him a quick kiss.  “We can never know what the future may hold,” she said, “but we have tonight.”  She looked up at him from beneath her lashes.  “I want to be with you.  I want to belong to you.”

Steve nodded, understanding all too well what she feared.  The Bishop was an incredibly powerful man, the most powerful outside of Rome.  The Bishop took what he wanted and if he wanted Peggy -   Steve would never allow that to happen.  But he understood Peggy’s need, her desire.  She kissed him and he returned the kiss, nipping lightly at her lips.  She was still unsettled, but determined.  

He kissed along her cheekbones, his hands rubbing over her back in firm, soothing strokes.  He rubbed the muscles at the nape of her neck, making her sigh.   In a perfect world, Steve would do things the right way, court her as the fine lady she was.  But this was not a perfect world.  And he was as desperate to solidify their relationship as she was.  She belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.  Always and forever.   “I love you, Peggy,” he vowed.

She smiled up at him brightly.  “And I you.”

She kissed along his jaw and down his neck, her fingernails biting into his back.  He groaned, pushing closer to her.  He reached for the hem of her shift, inching it higher, delighting as every new bit of skin was revealed.  She was so soft, so perfect.

But Peggy, as always, had to have her say.  Unsatisfied with how fast he was moving, she shrugged out of the shift in one fluid movement, tossing it to the floor and pressing against him.  His breath caught at the feel of her, naked in his arms.   “Please, Steve,” she breathed.   He nodded, his hands going to the fastenings on his trousers.  Peggy, ever curious, assisted.  By the time Steve kicked the trousers away, they were both breathing hard.  She touched him carefully, stroking him.  “Show me.”

He nodded, taking her hand, guiding her to cup him tighter, stroke him harder.  He shuddered, kissing down her neck.  “Peggy.”  With a groan, he pulled her hand away, screwing his eyes shut as he fought for control.

Peggy held him.  “Did I?” she asked quietly.  “Was that wrong?”

He shook his head vehemently, taking a deep breath.  He looked down and her and chuckled darkly.  “Too good.  I don’t want to finish before we start.”  

She seemed pleased with that bit of information.  And emboldened.  Steve said a silent prayer.   Peggy urged him to roll on his back and then she climbed on top of him, straddling him.  She seemed somewhat at a loss for what to do about his erection.  She looked down at him.  “Angie said it’s better with the girl on top.”

Steve just blinked at her.  “You and Angie talked about _ this _ ?”

She nodded.  “Of course.”

Steve said another prayer and took her hips, guiding her down against him, not entering her, just urging her to rub against him.  She was slick with want and he cursed, his fingers biting into her hips.  Her breath caught, her head falling back as she moved against him.  He took one of his hands from her hip, cupping her breast.  She leaned into the contact, moaning. 

Steve pulled her down, kissing her deeply before rolling them so she was on her back, beneath him.  When he broke the kiss, she looked up at him.  He gave her a wolfish grin before kissing down her body.  He felt her fingers thread through his hair and she shifted beneath him as he kissed her belly and then moved lower.

He heard her breath catch, felt her hips jerk, as he tasted her.  She yelped his name, but he did not falter.  She was everything he had imagined, soft and wet and so very lush.  She was rolling her hips, her breath coming fast as he continued to lick and tease.  He used his fingers, entering her gently and she gasped.  There was no maidenhead, which did not surprise him.  Peggy had lain with no man, but she was certainly the curious sort, determined to know her own mind and body.  The thought of her discovering her own body, touching herself, had him hard to the point of nearly being painful.  He would definitely ask for details of her explorations later.

He added another finger, curling them slightly as he continued to lick where she was most sensitive.  He felt her tighten around his fingers, heard her breath catch and then she was shivering beneath him, her heel digging into his back.  He continued to touch her until her tremors subsided and then he pulled away, wiping his face on the back of his hand as he looked at her.

She was glorious, her skin flushed, a fine sheen of perspiration across her chest.  She patted his head.  “Angie didn’t tell me about that.”

He smiled, moving up her body.  “Maybe Angie doesn’t know everything.”

She laughed.  “She has five kids.”  Her brow furrowed.  “I’m going to have to tell her about it.”

He groaned.  “At least wait until we’re married to tell her, please.”

She gave him a blinding smile, pulling him close and kissing him.  Her hips cradled his own and he urged her to draw her knees up.   He entered her slowly, watching her face.  Her eyes were tightly shut and her fingers bit into his shoulders.  He kissed along her jaw.  “Is it okay?”

She nodded vigorously, eyes still closed, biting down on her lip. She released a shuddering breath, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him against her.

He chuckled silently, kissing her, acquiescing to her demands as he entered her completely.  She returned his kiss enthusiastically.  He rocked into her as gently as he could, but Peggy, as always, had her own mind about things.   She tightened her legs around his waist and then rolled him to the side.  Understanding what she wanted, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him.  They came to a stop, with her on top of him, her hands braced against his chest.  She looked down at him, smiling wickedly.

“I am but your humble servant,” he said, arching an eyebrow at her.

She laughed and then gasped, tightening around him.  Groaning, she arched her back and slowly started to move on him.  He used his hands at her hips to support her, but he was sure to let her direct the proceedings.

She found a rhythm, and angle, that suited her.  Her eyes were shut again, as she concentrated.  He was lost, watching her.  He had never seen anything as beautiful as Peggy in the throes of passion.  Her breath was coming short again and he used his fingers, stroking her as she moved on him.  Soon she was crying out, tightening around him and he let himself go, joining her in release.

 

* * *

 

Peggy crept into the house and turned to find her mother sitting at the scarred kitchen worktable in the dim, pre-dawn light.  She cursed under her breath.

Amanda sighed, her features tight.  “Where were you?”

Peggy opened her mouth, searching vainly for a convincing lie.

“ _ Margaret _ .”

She sighed, slumping.  “With Steve.”

To Peggy’s shock, Amanda seemed relieved.  “Do you need to be wed soon?”

“It would be a really good idea,” Peggy said meaningfully.  “Unless you want the legitimacy of any potential grandchildren in question.”

Amanda sighed, but did not seem shocked.  “Hurry upstairs, then.  Before your stepfather realizes you were missing.”

Peggy started for the stairs.

“And Margaret.”  

Peggy turned, looking at her mother in question.  

“Stay out of sight of the Bishop.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve stood on the edge of the festivities, watching as the maidens danced together to the lively music.  Peggy was gorgeous, her eyes sparkling with joy, dark locks trailing behind her as she moved between the other dancers.  

“Rogers.”

Steve snapped to attention, turning to face the Bishop.  He’d thought the Bishop would be indisposed for another day.  “Your Grace.”

Pierce was watching the dancers, his eyes narrowed in a look that was unmistakably predatory.  The Bishop was the seat of power for Aquila.  He was, in theory at least, bound to the vows of poverty and chastity.  In practice, Steve had found him to be hindered by neither.  

Steve did not agree with a number of the Bishop’s policies, nor did he approve of how the man conducted his private affairs.  But on the whole, he had been a positive force for Aquila.  His policies were harsh, but typically fair.  He had considerably more financial acumen than the previous Bishop, and the city was thriving.  Children, as a rule, were no longer starving to death in the streets, as they had when Steve was young.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” the Bishop said, watching the dancers.

Steve nodded.  “Indeed, your Grace.”

“The older girl, Margaret,” the Bishop said.  “You know her?”

Steve met the Bishop’s gaze.  “I do,” he said firmly.  “We have known each other since we were children.  She returned to Aquila recently and we have been courting.  We plan to wed soon.”

The Bishop looked back to the dancers, nodding.  “She the daughter of the late Lord Carter.”  He looked at Steve again.  “Too fine for a common born suitor.”

“She is indeed a fine lady,” Steve agreed tightly.  “She keeps her own counsel as to who is worthy of her affections.”

The Bishop’s expression was grim.  “The banns will not be published.  God has a plan for dear Margaret, and it does not involve you,” he said, giving Steve a hard look.  “Bring her to me.  After the festivities have ended.”

“Your Grace?” Steve managed.

“You heard me, Rogers.  Bring her to me.  Tonight.  I have things to discuss with her.  She is no longer your concern.”  He held Steve’s gaze and the implication was clear.  The Bishop knew exactly what he was demanding, and who he was demanding it from.

Steve nodded.  He excused himself as quickly as possible.  He had known, of course, of the danger that the Bishop could potentially present to Peggy.  But somehow he had not believed that the Bishop would challenge him so openly.  Steve was the Captain of his Guard.  He was the Bishop’s most loyal servant, even when he didn’t always agree with the man’s policies.   

Skirting along the edge of the festival goers, Steve searched the crowd.  It took him a while, but he finally saw Amanda through the crowd.  She was engaged in conversation with a number of other ladies, but Steve touched her elbow lightly.  “A word, my lady.”

Amanda’s companions laughed as he drew her away.  Amanda herself did not seem to be in the slightest bit amused.  Steve found a quiet spot near a stand of trees.

“Peggy and I must be wed tonight,” he said.

Amanda looked away, shifting her weight nervously back and forth.

“What happened?” Steve pressed.

She looked up, meeting his gaze, frowning.  “My husband will formally refuse your proposal at his earliest convenience.”

Steve pulled back like he’d been slapped.  “ _ What? _ ”

Amanda looked miserable.  She glanced up at him warily.  “The Bishop has taken an interest in Margaret,” she said quietly.  “My husband is a good man, but he knows the danger in crossing Pierce.”

“So you’d turn her over to him?” Steve demanded hotly.

“I would rather die myself.  But what would you have me do?” Amanda said, clearly upset.  “I would do anything to spare her his attentions, but you know what the Bishop is like when he wants something.  You know what he does to those who defy him.  You’ve doled out his punishment yourself.”

Steve looked away, all too aware of the truth in her words.  He shook his head.  “He wants her.  Tonight.  He’s demanded I bring her to him.”

Amanda clapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head.  “No.  You can’t.”

“I’ll take her away from here,” Steve said.  “Tonight.  We’ll go.  Start a new life somewhere beyond the Bishop’s reach.”

“You know what will happen if he catches you,” Amanda said, her voice a bare whisper.

Steve nodded sharply.  “It is preferable to seeing what he would do to Peggy if we stay.”

Amanda surged forward, hugging Steve tightly.  “Bless you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Mother,” Peggy cursed, pulling her hand out of her mother’s grasp.  “Where are we going?”

Amanda opened her mouth to explain, but Steve stepped out of the shadows, holding Goliath’s reins.  “She’s bringing you to me,” he said.

Peggy looked from her mother to Steve and back.  “What’s going on?”

“The Bishop,” Steve said tightly.  “Hurry.  We must leave now, before he realizes I have no intention of taking you to him.”

Peggy looked at Amanda.  “Mother?”

She nodded, pushing a bundle into Peggy’s arms.  She cupped Peggy's cheek gently, tears in her eyes.  “Go with him.  Be safe.”

Peggy nodded, pale, even in the dim light.  She grabbed her mother and hugged her tightly.

Steve mounted Goliath and then pulled Peggy into the saddle before him.  “We have one stop and then we’ll be off.”  He looked at Amanda.  “I will protect her.  I swear.”

“I know,” Amanda said, nodding sadly.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve made his way quickly to the outskirts of the city.  It wasn’t a shanty town, exactly, but the old priest had taken his vow of poverty and service quite seriously.  Steve dismounted and tethered Goliath.  He helped Peggy down and led her into the tiny hovel.

“Phillips,” Peggy said, embracing the old man.

Phillips greeted her warmly, smiling and offering her a seat.  He looked at Steve.  “I never thought to see you two together again.”

“And God willing, you won’t see us again after tonight,” Steve said grimly.

Phillips frowned.

“We must be married,” Steve said.  “Tonight.”  Before Phillips could ask, he continued, “The Bishop wants her.  And I cannot allow that to happen.  We’re leaving tonight.  But we must be married.”

“You know all marriages must have the Bishop’s approval,” Phillips said.

“I know,” Steve replied.

Phillips looked at Peggy.  “You want him?” he asked skeptically, nodding to Steve.

She smiled softly.  “I do.”

Phillips sighed.  “I suppose I could be excommunicated for worse.”

Peggy shook her head, putting her hand on Phillips’s arm.  “We can’t put you in danger.”

“Child,” he said, “I’m not afraid of the Bishop.  If you’ll have this man, then I will be proud to marry you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy watched as Steve pressed coins into Phillips’s hand, for the sturdy brown gelding.  Goliath was strong enough to carry them both, but they would make better time separately.  Steve helped Peggy into the saddle and then kissed her soundly before securing the bundle of clothes and provisions to the back of her saddle.

Night was upon them, but the moon was bright and they made good time, heading north.  They moved quickly, quietly, through the night.  Peggy could hear the howls of wolves in the distance and stuck close to Steve.

They rode for hours before finally leaving the road, venturing into the woods, following a small stream.  They finally stopped near a clearing and Steve helped her dismount.  She was sore and stiff from the ride.  She watched as he removed the horses’ saddles and bridles, staking the animals so they had room to forage.

“I’m sorry, but no fire tonight,” he said quietly.

She nodded, understanding.

She watched with a sense of unreality as he spread out the blankets on the ground.  This was really her wedding night with her husband.  He came to her and gathered her close, kissing her.  “Rest,” he said.  “I’ll keep watch.”

She tugged at the front of his tunic.  “ _ Steve _ .”

“We will have time, wife, I promise you,” he vowed.  “But for tonight, rest.  You will need your strength.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve woke Peggy before dawn.  She was cold and stiff, her entire body aching.  “Do we have to leave so soon?” she asked.

His lips pursed together tightly and she knew he was sorry.  “The Captain of the Guard has betrayed the Bishop of Aquila,” he said grimly.  “And stolen his prize.  We will certainly be pursued.”

Peggy nodded, feeling foolish.  Of course he was right.  She had rarely felt so naive, so sheltered.  She vowed to be a good wife to him, to help him however she could.

They shared the bread and cheese her mother had sent with them, and drank from the spring before mounting again.  Steve kept a steady pace, but she knew he was moving slower than he would like, out of consideration for her.  Peggy tried her best to keep a stiff upper lip, but she was miserable; too hot or too cold, hunger gnawing at her belly, sore from riding at such a grueling pace.

That night they once again bedded down in the forest.  The ground was uneven and so hard.  Peggy was cold, shivering violently, her teeth chattering.  Steve finally joined her, wrapping himself around her.  She was considerably warmer with his body curled around her own, but she still felt miserable.  She wanted to weep, but managed bite back the tears.  They would do no one any good.  

It was all so unfair.  She and Steve were forced to run, simply because a powerful man saw her across a room and decided she would belong to him. Steve had thrown away his entire life without a thought, rather than turn her over to the Bishop.  

She would not make light of Steve’s sacrifice.  

She would not be a burden.

 

END CHAPTER


	4. Chapter 4

“How long has it been?” Peggy asked.

Steve was assembling supplies so he could set snares in the hopes that they could catch something to eat.  He looked up at the moon, just cresting the horizon.  “Two weeks.”  

She nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around herself, rocking back and forth to keep warm.

“It won’t always be like this, Peggy,” he said quietly.  “I promise you.  We’ll make a new start.  I’ll find a way to give you the life you were meant to have.”

She pushed herself to her feet and crossed to where he was sitting next to the saddlebags.  She crouched down, taking his face in her hands and kissing him.  “The life I want is one at your side.  That’s all I ask.”

He smiled at her, but she knew he was still determined to give her some existence she wasn’t sure she had ever wanted.  She looked down at what he was doing.  “Show me.”

For the next hour, Steve showed Peggy how to set snares.  Several days earlier, he showed her how to start a fire, though they wouldn’t have one until morning.  She had been practicing the last several days.  It was slow going, but she was getting the hang of it.  He also showed her how to use his crossbow, though she wanted to avoid needing to use it.  She was determined to be a real partner to him.

They made their way back to their little camp.  It was fully dark now, the stars twinkling overhead.  “You should rest,” he said, ushering her toward the bedroll.

She shook her head, pulling him close.  They still hadn’t lain together as man and wife.  She knew he had been cautious because the days of hard travel were not something she was used to.  As disappointed as she had been, she had also been grateful.  But she was now acclimating to her new life, her new routine.  And she wanted her husband.

Steve kissed her with obvious hunger, his breath catching as he hitched her higher against his body.  He groaned, breaking off the kiss.  “You should sleep.”

“I don’t want sleep.  I want my husband,” she said, walking backwards until her back collided with a large tree.

“Peggy,” he said, trying to sound authoritative.  It was undercut by the fact that his hands were roaming under her cloak.

She kissed along his jaw and down his neck.  He was breathing fast.  “Please, Steve.”

He groaned, kissing her again.  He grabbed the hem of her dress and rucked it up.  His hand was between her legs, gentle and teasing.  She gasped, her head knocking back into the trunk of the tree as her fingers bit into the corded muscle of his upper arms.   He took his time, his fingers working over her delicate flesh as he kissed along her neck and chest.  He pulled the front of her dress down, capturing a nipple between his teeth, just as his fingers entered her.

She bit back a cry, coming apart in his arms.  He continued to kiss and touch her until the tremors had passed.  Then, she reached for him, quickly releasing the closures on his trousers.  She stroked him and he hissed in pleasure.  Hitching one of her legs around his waist, he entered her slowly.   She gasped, her breath coming short at the feel of him pushing into her.  She held onto him as he drove into her.  In short order, his body went taut.  

He groaned and then laughed darkly.  “That was impressive.”

She turned her head, capturing his lips.  “We need more practice.”

“Indeed,” he agreed.

Carefully, they moved apart, righting their clothes.  Steve took Peggy to the bedroll.  She knew he intended to keep watch, but she pulled at him.  “Lay with me, husband.”

He didn’t argue.  They did need practice.

* * *

 

 

In the morning, they checked the snares.  They caught a rabbit.  They took it back to the camp and shared a hasty breakfast before dousing the fire and heading out.  

Peggy stifled a groan as she climbed into the saddle.  At least she was sore in a different way.  Last night had been a fundamentally different kind of riding.  Her already taxed muscles did not thank her for it.  But she couldn’t help smiling when she looked at Steve.

They had another hard day of riding.  Peggy wondered if he wasn’t being overly cautious, pushing both them and the horses so hard every day.  She knew he was right to fear the Bishop.  But she also wondered how long the Bishop’s men could possibly give chase.  Surely it couldn’t be worth expending so many resources for a slight wound to the Bishop’s pride.

As it was getting dark, Steve pulled Goliath to a halt.  Peggy stopped her gelding next to him.  They were on a ridge overlooking a valley.  There was a small village below.  Peggy expected Steve to head for higher ground, deeper in the woods, but instead he started toward the village.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Getting a room,” he replied.

Peggy didn’t ask why.  She was cold and tired.  The prospect of a warm meal and a real bed thrilled her beyond measure.  She waited on the outskirts of the village, while Steve entered the small inn.

He returned several minutes later and led her around the back of the inn to the stable, where two boys took the horses.  Steve helped Peggy dismount and then wrapped the shawl around her, covering her face as he led her inside.   The innkeeper directed them up the stairs to what was their finest room.  It was rather shabby, and Steve had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.  But to Peggy it looked like a palace after so many nights of sleeping on the ground.  There was a fire in the grate.  Peggy sank into the upholstered chair, groaning in pleasure.

There was a knock at the door and a serving girl brought in a tray of food.  Peggy’s mouth started watering at the smell and she watched closely as the girl set the tray on a small table.   As the girl started to leave, Steve stopped her.  “And the bath.”

The girl nodded.  “Yes milord.”

Peggy and Steve tucked into the food, roasted chicken and root vegetables.  A loaf of hearty bread and hard cheese.  Two mugs of ale.   As they ate, two young women brought up a wooden tub and then started filling it with hot water, making many trips.  By the time the tub had enough water to bathe, Steve and Peggy were done eating.  Peggy looked at the tub longingly.

“Do you want me to leave?” Steve asked.

Peggy hadn’t considered that.  Biting down on her bottom lip, she shook her head.  “You can stay.”  

She tried for brazen, but she ended up feeling incredibly self-conscious, taking her clothes off in front of Steve.  It felt slightly ridiculous, to be so shy.  They knew each other, intimately.  But they had always been together under covers and the dark of night.  It was a far cry from the well lit little room.

Steve glanced at her, but did his best not to openly stare, for which she was grateful.  The girls had left a crock of acrid smelling, runny, brown soap.  Peggy was accustomed to much more refined bath oils, but after weeks on the road, she wasn’t complaining.  She washed quickly and then dried herself with the narrow lengths of coarse toweling.  She went to the bed, quickly ducking under the covers for warmth.  

Steve watched her with open hunger, but finally turned away, forsaking her for the tub.  She did not return his favor of giving her privacy.  Instead, she watched him closely as he stripped off his tunic and trousers, leaving him bare.  She watched as he washed himself in the cooling water.

Despite her interest in Steve’s naked body, the large meal, warmth and comfort of the bed left her drousing.  She was vaguely aware of him finishing up and calling for the girls to remove the tub.  Later, he slid beneath the covers, pulling her into his arms.

She made a happy sound, curling against him.  He kissed her slowly, like they had all the time in the world.  In their previous couplings, they had been so rushed, so frantic that there was little time to savor the moments.  But here, in this cozy little room, they learned each other by degrees, slowly shedding inhibitions.

Peggy moaned, arching her hips against his mouth as he tasted her again and again. When she came apart at last, he stopped, kissing his way up her body.  She pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he joined with her, rocking slowly.

He said things, his breath hot against her skin.  He told her how much he wanted her, how long he had waited for her.  She reveled in his confessions, her fingernails biting into his back, capturing his lip between her teeth.

In the aftermath, she held him, wondering how she had managed to stay away from him for so long.  She couldn’t imagine waking without him, or falling asleep without him at her side.  She chuckled when she realized she’d never had the chance to tell Angie the things she’d learned.

 

* * *

 

 

Habit woke them before the dawn, but they lounged in the bed, making love again before finally rising.  Steve paid the serving girls to procure a dress.  It wasn’t pretty, but it was sturdy and would hold up on their travels far better than the dress Peggy had been wearing.

“I’m going to check on the horses,” Steve said.  “I’ll be back.”

Peggy sat before the fire in the new dress, quickly braiding her hair.   It was only moments later when she heard footfalls on the stairs.  She turned toward the door, expecting Steve.  But the door was kicked open.  Peggy was immediately on her feet.  She recognized the man, one of the Bishop’s guards, Rumlow.  She dove for the window, trying to scramble out, but he grabbed her.  

She fought with him, doing her best to twist out of his grip.  She’d wrestle free only for him to grab her again.  He finally pinned her on the bed, face down.  More soldiers entered the room.  One of them laughed darkly.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rumlow said.  “She belongs to the Bishop.”

The soldiers immediately sobered and the pit of Peggy’s stomach felt like ice.  She prayed that Steve had seen them coming, that he had gotten away.  They tied her wrists and ankles, and two of them managed to get her down the stairs and outside despite her efforts to get free.  There was a covered wagon waiting, and they tossed her in the back.  She vainly fought for any sign of Steve, but she didn’t see anything.

Four soldiers crowded into the wagon with her.  Her bonds were so tight that her hands and feet were already going numb.

And then she heard it, the grunts, the sickening sound of fists meeting flesh.  “ _ Peggy! _ ”

She scrambled trying to get out of the wagon.  “Steve!”

One of the soldiers grabbed her, his arms banding around her so tightly she couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

The return trip to Aquila was quicker than their escape had been, but it still took nearly a week.  The guards kept them moving almost round the clock, stopping only to change horses and restock provisions.  Peggy was sequestered in the wagon, bound, at all times.  She had no idea where Steve was, if he was still a prisoner, or even still alive.  She felt hollow with fear and worry.

It was night when they finally entered Aquila.  She heard the guards conferring, and then the city gate being opened.  The wagon rattled through the cobbled streets, only stopping at the Bishop’s residence, adjacent to the Cathedral grounds.  The guards dragged her inside Pierce’s grand home, and up to a tower room.  Throwing her inside, they bolted the door.

The window was barred, but Peggy contorted herself enough to see the courtyard below.  She saw Steve, bloodied, bruised, and barely conscious.  They had tied him across Goliath’s back and when they cut the bonds, he crashed limply to the ground.  Two guards approached him, each grabbing and arm and they dragged him away toward the dungeons.

Peggy bit down on her fist, willing herself not to cry.  She had to find a way out of this.  She had to find a way to save him.

It could have been minutes later, or hours.  Three women entered the room where Peggy was being held.  They cut her bonds, washed her, dressed the abrasions at her wrists and ankles, braided her hair, and helped her into a new shift and a sumptuous dress of sapphire silk.  

Peggy was too numb to fight.  They led her out of the room and down the winding corridor.  

Peggy found herself in a dining room, alone, with the Bishop.

“Margaret,” he said warmly, from his seat at the head of the table.  He motioned to a chair.  “Please, join me.”

Mechanically, Peggy took a seat in a chair, not the one he indicated.  She watched his lips purse together in irritation.

The Bishop quickly masked his displeasure with a cruel curve of his lips.  “You know,” he said, “if he’d simply brought you to me, I’m sure I would have tired of you quickly.  And then you could have gone back to him, lived out your depressing little life together.”  He paused, leaning forward toward her.  “But instead, you ran.”  He smiled.  “That makes you infinitely more interesting.  What is it about you that would cause my most loyal servant to betray me?”

Peggy watched him mutely, giving him nothing.

“You’re mine now,” he said flatly.  “For as long as I want you.  And when I tire of you, I will cast you aside.  Maybe I’ll give you to Rumlow.  He seems to like your looks.”   He paused, threading his fingers together as he watched her.  “But your lover ...”  He frowned, shaking his head.  “I’m afraid there will be no escape for him.”

Peggy’s eyes burned with tears, but she didn’t allow them to fall.  She refused to give him the satisfaction.

“I could lie to you,” he said evenly.  “I could tell you that I would release him if only you would show your appreciation.”  He sighed.  “But we would both know that wasn’t true.”

He watched her, and she met his gaze evenly, her jaw clenched tightly together.

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.  “You’re really not going to beg me,” he said in wonder, his bitter anger clear.  He watched her with a mixture of fascination and hatred.  “You look so soft.  I expected you to beg.”

Peggy continued to watch him mutely.

“ _ Guards _ ,” he called.

Two guards entered the room.

“Show her back to her quarters,” he said, watching her carefully.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy woke well after dawn, feeling wretched.  She had sobbed quietly for hours.  After the crying abated there was a sort of leaden acceptance of the situation.  There was nothing she could do to save either of them.  The Bishop wanted her to beg, to grovel.  If she thought there was any chance of her surrender buying leniency for Steve, she would have done it.  But she knew their fates were sealed.

Steve was locked in the dungeons.  The famed dungeons of Aquila.  There was no escape for the living.  The only men who ever left the dungeons were dead.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy never knew precisely how long she was a guest of the Bishop.  The days and nights blurred together with misery.

Every day, a new dress was delivered.  Sometimes there were other gifts, jewels or fripperies.  Peggy refused to wear them.  She dressed herself in the gown in which she’d arrived, torn and muddied as it was.  The gown Steve had bought her.

The third time she wore it to dinner with the Bishop, he didn’t even try to hide his anger.  He had the guards strip it off her where she stood and he burned it in the cavernous fireplace.  Peggy watched, mute as always.  If he expected her to cower and cover herself, he was disappointed.

But where she expected his anger, she found only growing fascination.  She knew it was more dangerous than his rage.  But she couldn’t give him what he wanted.  She refused to give him her fear and misery.  She refused to beg.  As the Bishop had said himself, they both knew it would do nothing to spare Steve.  And Steve was the only thing that mattered to Peggy.

 

* * *

 

 

As the days passed, the Bishop changed tactics.  He tried to tempt her with promises of visits from her mother and Angie.  Peggy refused as flatly as she had refused his dresses.  She wrapped herself in her bedding until he denied her even that.  She was finally forced to wear the gowns, but she made certain he knew she took no pleasure in them.

After that, he tried threats, and worse.  He kissed her, touched her, but she refused to reciprocate.  She refused to even give him her disgust.  She met his ardor with the same flat blankness she always used.  

It enraged him.

He dragged her to the dungeons, forced her to watch Steve being tortured.  In those moments, she couldn’t prevent the tears and sobs.  But she did not beg.  She would never beg.  Especially not in front of Steve.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy understood that with each passing day, the Bishop’s hunger for her grew.  She found it sad that it had been so long since anything was denied to him, that her stubborn refusal should be so intoxicating.

As night fell, a new gown was delivered, a beautiful cream silk with delicate beadwork that must have taken dozens of women months to complete.  Peggy donned the dress with the same carelessness she always used.  She hated the waste of it.  If it had been a gift from Steve, she would have cherished it.  As it was, she despised every bit of it.

As she took her customary seat at the table, she knew the Bishop was already angry.   “Why is it so impossible to please you?” he demanded.

She simply looked at him.  He was drunk, she knew.  He’d been drinking more and more.  There was a crazed edge to his expression that hadn’t been there weeks ago.

“This is your last chance,” he said.  “Give over to me.  Completely.  And I will spare both you and your lover.  But you must yield to me with everything that you are.  Yield and I will show you mercy.  I will give you wealth.  I will see that you are happy and cared for.  But you must say that you are mine.”

And then Peggy spoke the only word she had uttered since she was brought to the Bishop’s home.  

She looked Pierce in the eye and she said, “No.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy morbidly wondered how the Bishop would mete out his wrath.  Surely he would force her to watch Steve’s execution.  That idea had to appeal to the Bishop’s sadistic nature.  There was no way of knowing what plans he had for her ... after.   She understood that something fundamental had shifted when she told him no.  The Bishop would take action.  Her stinging cheek was simply the first taste of his vengeance.  But she didn’t think that he simply wished to cause her pain.  That would be too simple.  He wanted to own her, to possess her in some way.

As she lay on her palette, staring at the gray sky visible through the barred window, there was the grating sound of the key being turned in the lock.  Hurriedly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, her back against the wall.  For a moment, the only person visible was one of the Bishop’s guards, but as he stepped aside, Abraham Erskine entered the room.  

Peggy frowned, watching as Erskine crossed the room.  He was clearly upset.  Cautiously, he crouched in front of her.  He didn’t seem to want to meet her eyes, but he finally forced himself to look at her.  The misery in his gaze was almost more than she could bear.

He held up a knife.  “Forgive me, child,” he said quietly.

Peggy had no desire to protect herself as he reached out toward her.  If he was to be her executioner, so be it.  But all Erskine did was take a lock of hair.  He looked at the dark tendril of her hair in his hand.  Swallowing thickly, he once again met her gaze.  “There is always hope.  Never forget that.”

 

* * *

 

 

The guards threw her into the room.  Her bare feet skittered on the dirty stone floor and she tripped, skidding on her knees.  She finally came to a graceless stop in the middle of the room.  The guards pulled the door shut with a resounding clang.  

Peggy brushed her hair back from her face, looking around.  She was somewhere in the bowels of the Bishop’s residence.  There were no windows.  The only light came from irregularly placed torches.  The room was long and narrow with something that looked like stone altar at the far end, near an alcove.  There was a grate cut into the floor and manacles hanging in pairs from both of the long walls.  

She shivered.  What was this place?

She backed up against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself.  She knew enough to know that nothing good had ever happened in this room.  She could feel it in the dank, stale air.

She was shivering, her body numb from cold by the time the door was opened again.  A half dozen guards entered, two of them carrying Steve between them.  He hung limply in their grip.  Peggy immediately surged to her feet, watching.  They fastened Steve into the manacles.  He was unconscious, bruised and badly beaten.  But he was alive.  He had to be.  What reason would they have to chain a dead man?

Apparently convinced that Steve wouldn’t be able to free himself, the guards left, closing the door behind themselves.  Peggy immediately crossed the few steps to Steve, holding him.  He was so cold.  His face was bruised and he was barely recognizable.  She pulled him tightly against herself, sobbing.

“Ah, yes,” the Bishop said darkly, his voice full of spite and condescension, “the lovers, reunited.”

Peggy glared up at him, defiant, as he stood in the doorway, watching.

“Have no fear,” the Bishop said, walking into the room.  He leaned down toward her, “you and your beloved shall be eternally bound together.”

Peggy swallowed harshly, knowing what he intended.  “I’m not afraid to die,” she spat.

He chuckled.  “Oh, I’m not going to kill you,” he said.  “That would lack ... imagination.  No, my love, I have something much more creative in mind for you and your lover.  A warning, an example, to any who should think of defying me.”

Peggy shivered, holding Steve tighter.  She watched as the Bishop crossed to the stone altar.  He lit two more torches which did little other than to cast harsh shadows around the narrow space.  

The door opened again and Peggy watched as Erskine was escorted inside.  He was moving slowly, his gaze downcast.  Every bit of him seemed to protest his involvement in what was transpiring.   He stopped before Peggy and met her eyes, swallowing harshly.  Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the Bishop.

“I have told you,” the Bishop said coldly, “what will become of them if you refuse.”

Erskine’s expression crumbled and he reached into the pouch he carried, withdrawing a vial.  Peggy watched as he uncorked it.  It looked like blood, but darker, more viscous.  He met her eyes again.  “I am so sorry.”

 

END CHAPTER

 


	5. Chapter 5

Peggy watched, in a daze, as Erskine and Phillips managed to load Steve into the rickety little cart, pulled by Phillips’ old donkey.  Steve hadn’t regained consciousness, but he was still breathing.  After everything that transpired in that horrid little room, the Bishop had simply ... let them go.

It was early evening.  Peggy was vaguely aware of Phillips touching her gently,  wrapping a warm shawl around her shoulders.  She trudged slowly after the little cart, down the winding city streets.  She saw faces pressed to windows, watching them as they passed, as if they carried a plague.  Their march seemed to go on forever, but they finally stopped at Erskine’s home.

Men, who Peggy did not know, helped move Steve upstairs to Erskine’s guest room.  Peggy followed closely.  She sat in an upholstered chair as Erskine and Phillips carefully peeled Steve out of his bloodsoaked clothing and dressed his wounds as best they could.

“Is he going to live?” Phillips asked quietly.

Erskine nodded grimly.  “Regardless of whether or not he wishes to.”

When they finished, they covered Steve with a worn quilt.  Peggy didn’t even bother to clean herself, she just curled up at his side, her palm splayed over his heart.  Neither Phillips nor Erskine said anything as they left.  

The fire in the room burned low and Peggy was so tired, but she could not sleep.  She could hear Erskine and Phillips arguing, though she could only make out the occasional word.  The last several hours had been a blur.  She felt worn, frayed, both mentally and spiritually.  She understood in only the vaguest terms what had happened.

A curse.  A dark curse

Peggy had heard the Bishop’s bitter words.   _ If I can’t have her, then no man shall.   _

This was a punishment fashioned specifically for her and Steve, to cause them the most anguish.  Always together.  And eternally apart.  They had less than a day, only until the coming evening’s moonrise, when the curse would set.  Peggy didn’t understand what it entailed.  But she understood it was eternal and inescapable, like the Bishop’s wrath.

 

* * *

 

 

When she woke, it was already late morning.  As she stirred, Steve groaned, pulling her close.  He looked better.  The swelling in his face had gone down considerably.  She touched his cheek gently.

“Peggy?” he said through cracked lips.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He coughed and she immediately rose, going to the small table where a pitcher of water and a cup waited.  She poured the water for him and returned quickly.  He sat up, reaching for the cup and quickly drained it.   He slumped back against the pillow.  “Where are we?”

“Erskine’s home,” she said quietly.

“Did we escape?”

She shook her head morosely.  “Let me find Erskine.  Perhaps he can explain.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was quiet the entire time Erskine relayed the story of what the Bishop had done, what the Bishop had commanded Erskine to do.  Peggy tried to absorb his words.  She still remembered very little of the previous night.  The details of the curse defied all logic and reason.   “That’s not possible,” Steve said, holding Peggy tighter.

Erskine shrugged.  “And yet, it is true.  Already, you can see the affects of the curse working,” he said, motioning to Steve, who was bare, covered only by a blanket.  The full expanse of his bare chest was clearly visible.  “Your wounds are healing far faster than would be expected.  You will find you are stronger, quicker, more resilient than ... a human.”

“And Peggy?” Steve asked tightly.

Erskine nodded.  “She will possess similar physiology to you, at least while in human form.”

Steve shook his head.  “Why would the Bishop make me stronger?” he demanded.  “When that makes it easier for me to kill him?”

Erskine winced, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “Because you and Peggy are bound together,” he said.  “If you kill the Bishop, the curse can never be broken.”

“So the curse can be broken?” Peggy asked anxiously.

Shrugging, Erskine said, “That is my deepest wish.”

“Which means no,” Steve said.  “You have no way to break the curse.”

“I am searching,” Erskine admitted.  “I am confident I will find an answer.”

“When?” Steve demanded.  “How long are we supposed to live like this?”

Shaking his head, Erskine admitted, “I don’t know.”

Peggy placed her hand over Steve’s heart.  “There is hope,” she said brightly.  He turned to look at her and she gave him a watery smile.  “We still have each other.”  

Frowning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers.   Tactfully, Erskine left the room, closing the door behind himself.  Steve lay back on the bed, pulling Peggy down with him.  She touched him carefully, mindful of his multiple wounds, though he did seem to be healing quickly.   “Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice dark and cold.

Peggy shook her head, hating the fear in his features.  “Not like that.  He hurt me by hurting you.”

Steve nodded, obviously relieved. He kissed Peggy hungrily.  She tried to gentle him, mindful of his injuries.  Steve didn’t seem interested in being gentle.  He rolled her beneath him, kissing her hard.   Peggy understood, all too well, that this was goodbye.  She had no intention of ever leaving his side, but the curse would prevent them from being together, from sharing any intimacy, let alone the intimacy between husband and wife.

He pulled her skirts up, and she parted her legs for him.  She gasped as he entered her, her nails biting into his back.  He seemed to like that, driving into her harder.  Peggy loved the way he was touching her.  He was always so careful, so gentle.  And she loved that.  But she loved this too, his unbridled hunger, his need.  

She rolled her hips, tightening around him and he growled, biting her shoulder.  She keened, coming apart, raking her nails down his back.  He shuddered, finding his own release.

 

* * *

 

 

Erskine looked up as Steve entered the small parlor.  Erskine rose to stand, shifting his weight nervously.  “If I had not helped him,” he said quietly, “understand that the things he would have done to her do not bear considering.”

Steve nodded grimly.  He glanced back toward the bedroom door, where Peggy was sleeping.  Swallowing thickly, he turned to look at Erskine.  “If I kill the Bishop - “

“It is as I said,” Erskine said, cutting across him. “If you kill the Bishop, you remove any hope of ever breaking this curse.  And if you are killed in the process, you will damn her to a half life.”

“A half life?”

“You and Peggy are one, two halves of a single presence as far as the curse is concerned.  Everything about you is dependent on the other.  If you die, she will be a lost soul, condemned to forever wander without her other half.  It would drive her mad.  It would be a fate worse than death.”

Steve sighed, sinking down into one of the chairs.  “And yet, we will never see each other.  Not with our own eyes.  Never touch each other.”

Erskine shook his head sadly.  “No, you will not.”  

Steve cursed under his breath.

Erskine laughed mirthlessly.  “The Bishop, he chose your forms.  I’m not even sure he understood what he was doing.”

“How so?”

“A wolf and a hawk,” Erskine said quietly.  He looked at Steve.  “They’re both predators.  And they both mate for life.”

Steve snorted, leaning back in his chair.  He scrubbed his hand over his face.  “This can’t be real.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Erskine said quietly.  “But know, I will do everything in my power to see it undone.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was late afternoon when Steve pulled Peggy into the saddle in front of himself.  Phillips handed him an oilcloth bag.  The old monk grasped Steve’s hand for a long moment, his grim features pressed into a deep frown.  “Godspeed.”

Steve nodded and then gave Goliath a sharp kick, prodding him into a trot.  At the gates, the guards stood aside, letting them pass without a word.   The summer evening was long and they were miles from the city walls when Steve finally found an abandoned barn and made camp.  He was building a fire when Peggy sniffled loudly.  Turning to face her, he saw that she was holding a massive book.   “A little light reading from Phillips?” Steve asked with a wry smile.

Shaking her head, she showed him.  The pages were all empty.  “There are ink and quills,” she said.  She looked away.  “So we can speak.”

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat.   He walked over to her and held out his broadsword, in its scabbard.  She looked at him in question.  “For protection,” he said, indicating the massive weapon.

She looked at him, her eyes glassy and nodded.  She took the sword and he noticed how hard it was for her to lift.  There was no way she could use it effectively.  He made a  mental note to find more suitably weaponry for her.

Peggy looked so tired, so lost.  All because of him.

He paced, suddenly unable to stand still.  His skin seemed to prickle.  He looked at the sun, low on the horizon.  “Peggy, promise me you will be wary of the wolf.  I don’t know - “

“He won’t hurt me,” she said firmly.

He scowled at her.  “You don’t know that.  Promise me.”

Rising to her feet, she closed the space between them, taking his face in her hands.  “I love you, husband,” she whispered, tears on her cheeks.  “I will miss you.”  She kissed him and he leaned into the contact, trying to commit the feel of her, the taste of her to memory.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 17 August - Day 1 _

 

_ Dearest Husband, _

_ The wolf is not what I expected.  He is a wild creature, of that there is no doubt.  He is an enormous beast, larger than any wolf I have ever seen, with a golden pelt.  He does not venture near, but I hear him, and occasionally see him, skirting the edges of the camp.  Goliath does not care for him, though I suspect he may eventually become inured to his presence.  It does seem to dissuade other predators, for which I am grateful. _

_ I will be brave, but it shames me to admit that I am scared.  I know that with time, it will become easier.  But to be so alone, and far from home.  No.  I shall not dwell on it.  This is our fate, for better or for worse.  At least we have the sky, and each other.  We are not rotting in dungeons or tower cells.   _

_ We are not prisoners.  We are free.  And we are together. _

_ I love you, husband.  And I miss you.  Always. _

  
  
  


Steve looked at the words, in Peggy’s messy, crawling script.  She always was terrible with her lessons.  Her penmanship wasn’t helped by the fact that she had written as small as she could manage, tucking her words against the very top of the first page in the book.  He didn’t know how many pages were in the book, but many.  The idea that they might one day fill them all tore at his heart.

He looked at the magnificent hawk, perched on the branch of a nearby tree, sunning herself and watching him.  A beautiful, but mindless creature, with no knowledge of her other half.

Steve already knew that if he held out his arm, she would light on it.  He would find a town with a market and trade for a heavier gauntlet for himself, and anklets and a hood for the bird.  Not that Steve had any desire to cage her, but it would behoove them both if she was a trained hawk.  Steve knew little of falconry, but he would learn.  He had no choice.

He picked up the quill, hesitating so long that ink dripped messily onto the precious paper.  He cursed and forced himself to write.

  
  


_ We will head toward the coast and then south.  There should be work to be had, even for an unsavory character such as myself.  The farther south we head, the more equitable the days and nights, especially as summer fades to winter.  I do not wish to deprive you of your time to walk among people, but I loathe the thought of you alone and cold, for the endless night of winter.  Your wolf will protect you, but do not mistake him for a tame beast.  Guard yourself, wife, and know that you are the most precious thing in the world to me. _

  
  
He waited for the ink to dry and then packed away the supplies.  He mounted Goliath and headed south and east, along the path between the mountains, toward the coast.  The hawk kept pace with him, lighting from tree to tree along the way. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ 17 September - Day 30 _

_ Husband, _

_ I appreciate your help in identifying the herbs I pressed into the book.  The fact that the plant in question is good for preventing quickening seems like a cruel irony.  Though I suppose even if you were here to lie with me, it would be useless information.  Surely I could not carry a child, cursed as I am to change so dramatically.  How could such a thing be possible? _

_ I had hoped, foolishly, at first, that perhaps we had created our own small miracle in our first days together as man and wife.  But with the new moon, my time came.  As I said, it seems foolish now to have thought it possible. _

_ Does it upset you when I wonder so bluntly about our fates?  I have the feeling it does, though you never say.  Your replies seem ever more curt  I know that you prefer when I ask straightforward questions, present you with problems to solve, so I shall endeavor to do that.   _

_ I have pressed more herbs into the pages.  Tell me about them.  My existence is so strange now that it seems that perhaps having the knowledge of a healer would be useful.  I can’t contribute to our shared life in the manner that you can (where did you find that velvet gown?  Though I do not wish to imagine you lonely, I pray you did not charm it off some willing woman.).  But I still feel the need to be of service.  Healers are always needed.  I know you learned so much from your mother.  Please teach me what you know. _

_ The sea is beautiful, even by moonlight.  I wish you were here to see it with me, though I suppose in a way you are.  The wolf keeps pace with me, always.  If I sit very still, he will venture close.  I know that scares you, but it should not.  He will not harm me.  Tonight I sat on the cliffs above the sea, watching the waves.  It was cold and I was shivering.  My wolf settled at my side.  He is a well fed animal.  And warm.  He has no interest in being a housepet, but he does not seem to want me to freeze, for which I am grateful.  Goliath still does not care for him, though he seems more resigned to his presence. _

_ What is she like, your hawk?  Tell me about her.  I dream, which makes no sense since she is presumably awake.  But when I open my eyes at nightfall, I know I have dreamt.  I dream of you.  And of the sky.  Those dreams are precious to me, for the glimpses of you.  My wolf is devoted, but he is no substitute for my husband.  Do you dream?  Tell me about them. _

_ Always, your loving wife. _

  
  


Steve looked at the page and then away, at the blue sky.  He dragged a hand roughly through his hair.  Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the short distance to where Goliath was grazing.  He patted the horse’s neck.  “Keep the wolf away from her, boy,” he said.  “He may be devoted, but he is still a beast.”

Goliath lifted his head and looked at Steve placidly.

Steve sighed.  “I know,” he said.  “It’s useless to try and protect her when she does not wish to be protected.  If she wants that damn wolf at her side, she will have it.”  He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, studying the sky again.

He returned to the book, looking at the plants Peggy had pressed into the pages. One was a flower, pretty, but with no purpose Steve knew.  The other was a weed, good for ruining a crop of barley.  He tossed them both away and then ventured into the woods.  He returned later with a handful of medicinal plants.  He pressed them into the pages with a description of them all, where to find them, how to prepare them.  

As he sat there, the hawk glided down, landing in front of him, depositing a dead rodent at his feet.  She looked up at him.  He gave her a tight smile.  “Go ahead.”  She just looked at him, in what he assumed was a disapproving manner.  He suspected that she thought without her help, he would starve to death.  She seemed to think he needed a lot of supervision.  She was always watching him.  

Sighing, Steve picked up the quill to describe his hawk and found that he could not form the words.  He looked at the bird, now tearing at her prey.  Her leather anklets were in place and she was mostly trained.  

Steve wrote none of that.  Instead, he wrote:

  
  


_ Have no fear, wife.  I have charmed no one out of a dress, aside from you.  Even then, my charm is in doubt as you seem inclined to look past my flaws, which may now include fleas.  I purchased the dress from a fine fellow with a lucrative shop.  I told him it was for my wife and that she is of unmatched beauty and grace.  He rightfully admitted that none of his dresses were adequate, but he thought perhaps the velvet gown would not offend.   _

_ I am glad you enjoy the gown.  Is it untoward to admit that I like how it smells of you when I pack it away every morning?  You have, no doubt, noticed that I use no salutation in our correspondence.  There is no need.  There is only ever you, wife.  You are my entire world.  All my thoughts and words are for you, and you alone. _

  
  


He pulled his hand away before he could descend into even more maudlin sentiment.  He missed Peggy.  He ached for her.  But what good did it do to tell her of that pain?  There was nothing she could do to assuage it.

Finally, before he could stop himself, he wrote:   _ I miss you, wife.  Always. _

  
  


END CHAPTER


	6. Chapter 6

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

  
  
  


February 12 - Day 1640

_ I will write, dear husband.  As I always write.  The babe was born near midnight, a healthy girl, but I could not save the young mother.  Was it a price, do you think?  Did the mother trade her life for the child’s?   _ _ I do not know.  But I do know that love of that strength exists.  I would give my life to be able to undo the horrors visited upon you because of me.   _

_ You seldom write.  I wonder how often you read.  I can tell, from the book, when you have not opened it.  You check it once a fortnight, sometimes longer.  Do my words cause you such pain, husband, that you have to ration the torment?   _

_ You are too thin.  I’ve noticed the extra notches in your belt.  You drink too much and rest too little.  Will it amuse you that I nag you without even seeing you?  It seems like the one wifely duty I can still perform.  Given a choice, it is not the one I would choose to perform.  I would much rather offer you comfort. _

_ You are lonely.  I can feel it in my bones.  I can hear it in the wolf’s cry.  Even when he is at my side, he searches for his mate and cannot find her. _

_ Is there anyone, husband?  Any woman who could bring you the slightest bit of comfort?  I would curse her to my dying breath, but I would also thank her.  I do not wish you to suffer needlessly.  Not ever.  I miss you.  I love you.  Always. _

  
  
  


Steve slammed the book shut, shaking his head.  He shoved the heavy tome back into the saddle bag and tightened Goliath’s girth before mounting.  He urged the horse down the trail, aware of the hawk following.

She had changed, his beloved wife.  He wondered, in his more morbid moments, if he would recognize Peggy if he were to run into her on the trail.  He had loved her since they were both eight years old.  And now married, constant companions, he sometimes felt that he no longer knew her.   Circumstance forced Peggy to become something she was never meant to be.  Peggy was born to be a grand lady, to be cared for, protected, worshiped.  Instead, because of him, she was a creature of the night, calloused and cold where she had once been so soft and warm.  

It had been almost five years since Peggy last saw the sun.  Steve procured the first dagger for her, but she added to her little arsenal.  He knew that she knew how to use them.  He knew she’d been forced to defend herself with lethal force at least twice.  He suspected there were far more attempts, but the wolf had spared her needing to make the killing blow.  

Peggy chastised him for not writing, but she had written about none of those incidents either.  He knew because he woke from his restless night to find villagers searching for the woman who moved among the shadows.  Steve always feigned ignorance and made sure they were miles away before nightfall.  The only protection he could offer her was to keep moving.  To keep her isolated and alone.  He knew it was dubious protection at best.

He had stopped procuring her dresses.  He knew that she wore his tunic as often as he did.  And she prefered trousers to skirts, heavy boots to soft shoes.  He imagined that now, her hands were as calloused as his own.  She was a proficient healer.  Perhaps not as good as Sarah or Erskine, but definitely better than Steve.  Her knowledge far outstripped his long ago.

In the time since the curse had been cast, Steve had become somewhat of a scholar in his own right.  He still didn’t know exactly what Erskine had done, but Steve had learned enough in his time and travels, to have a good idea of what it involved.  And he was now confident that Erskine had lied.

Steve was certain that there was a clear cut way to end his and Peggy’s curse.  

One of them needed to die.

Well, not ‘one of them’.  _  Steve _ needed to die.  Peggy’s death was out of the question.  He simply would not allow it.  But he would gladly forfeit his own life to see her freed from her eternal night.  

But there was no way Steve would leave Peggy unprotected in a world where Pierce could reach her.  No, that was not acceptable.  So Steve planned to end the Bishop, accepting that he would die in the process.  It was a small price to pay to see Peggy freed.

It wasn’t that Steve hoped she would find another lover.  In fact, the very thought of her in another’s arms was enough to drive him to violence.  But he did wish her to be free of the pain her attachment to him wrought.  He wished her to walk in the sun, to live without having to constantly look over her shoulder for attack, to have children if she chose.  Being bound to him precluded her from having any of those pieces of normalcy that most people took for granted.

Steve pulled Goliath to a halt, looking at the little hut.  He knew this was the place the tavern owner had directed him to.  He dismounted and tethered Goliath to a branch.  Steve took one of Peggy’s daggers out of the saddlebag as he approached the hut.   It appeared to be deserted, so Steve looked around.  Surely the occupant couldn’t have gone far.  There was a small stream behind the hut and Steve followed it.  After several minutes of walking, he found an empty flask.  He crouched down next to it.  

He felt the blade of the knife press against his spine.  Carefully, he held out his hands, glancing over his shoulder.  “Buck?”

“Steve?”

Steve nodded and the blade was withdrawn.  Slowly, he turned, facing Bucky.

Bucky just blinked at him, brow furrowed.  He looked unsteady on his feet and Steve had no trouble figuring out why the flask was empty.  “I heard you were dead,” Bucky said.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

Steve frowned.  “Looking for you.”

Bucky was still clearly confused, but he invited Steve back to the hut.  Bucky had been a soldier in the Bishop’s guard.  He joined shortly before Steve joined and they had been good friends.  Somewhere along the line, Bucky ran afoul of Pierce.  Steve still wasn’t sure exactly what happened.  Bucky would never say, and Steve, in his willful ignorance of the Bishop’s true nature, had never pushed.  

Bucky attacked Pierce and was sentenced to hang.  Bucky escaped, with help from the guard, including Steve, before the sentence could be carried out.  To this day, Bucky was the only prisoner to have ever escaped Aquila’s dungeons.  And he was one of the few people who Steve knew hated Pierce as much as Steve hated Pierce.

Back at the hut, Steve took a seat on a log that functioned as a bench near the firepit.  Bucky ducked into the hut, which was more of a lean-to (though it had nothing to lean against), and quickly returned with a bottle of wine.  Bucky took a healthy swig and handed the bottle to Steve.  The day was good and both Goliath and the hawk kept watch.  Well, the hawk kept watch.  Goliath mostly napped.

“Why are you really here?” Bucky finally asked.

Steve frowned.  He hadn’t been this drunk in a while.  “I need your help.”

Bucky snorted.  “To do what?”

“To kill the Bishop of Aquila.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he nearly dropped the wine.  He stared at Steve.  “You’re serious?”

Steve nodded.  “I am.  I’m going to kill Pierce.  But I can’t do it alone.”

.;'/

* * *

 

 

The sun was low on the horizon when Steve pulled the book out of Goliath’s saddlebag and sat down, leaning back against the tree.  He scribbled a hasty note.

  
  
  


_ I read, wife, even when you think I do not.  You are not all knowing.  But you are correct, I am lonely.  It is not a matter of finding companionship.  There is only one woman with whom I wish to lie, and she is you.  Do not think you will be rid of me so easily.   I know my true mate as surely as the wolf, and like him, I will accept no substitutes. _

_ Beware of Bucky.  He means well, but do not let your guard down.  He is as handy with a knife as you.  At least when he’s sober. _

_ I miss you, wife.  Always. _

 

* * *

 

 

“Steve,”  Bucky called, scanning the clearing.  The light was fading quickly.  He could see Steve’s war horse, still tethered to the tree.  It looked like someone was standing in the shadows near the beast.  Bucky approached cautiously.  His home was, by design, far from the traveled path.  But there were always men looking for easy prey.  “Steve?”

“Not Steve, no,” she said, ducking under the horse’s neck.  

Bucky was pretty far gone on wine, he knew.  He wondered if she was cursed spirit, here to lead him to his death.  He was pretty sure he’d follow wherever she cared to lead.  She was dressed in a long black tunic and close-fitting, brown, leather trousers.  Her long hair was pulled back in a messy braid, flowing down her back.  In the dim light, her eyes were dark as night.  She was breathtakingly beautiful and her accent marked her as a lady, even if the dagger at her belt spoke otherwise.  

Bucky stared at her.

“You must be Bucky,” she said, watching him.

“I am, yes,” he managed.  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking around.  “Where’s Steve?”

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a tight smile.  “Busy,” she said.  “Do you have anything to eat?”

Bucky frowned, but nodded.  He turned back to the hut, checking over his shoulder to make certain she was following.  She waited outside, adding wood to the fire as he collected the food.   She was quiet as they ate, sharing several pieces of hard cheese, bread, and two hardboiled eggs.   “Steve didn’t mention having a ... companion,” Bucky said.

She looked at him.  “Did he not?” her brow furrowed and she shrugged.  She brushed off her hands and stood.

In the distance, a wolf howled forlornly.  Bucky immediately stood as well, scanning the clearing.  Wolves generally didn’t venture so close, especially when the fire burned so bright.   “We should go inside,” he said.

She looked at him.  “Go ahead,” she said, starting toward the shadowed trees.

“Milady,” he said.  “It’s not safe.”

She didn’t stop, didn’t even acknowledge him.  He watched until she disappeared into the dark.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Steve kicked Bucky’s foot and he came awake with a start.  Bucky blinked up at him.  Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes.  “Where the hell did you go last night?”

Steve shrugged.  “I had business elsewhere.  Come on.  We’re far from Aquila.  We need to get a start.”

Bucky scowled and pushed himself to his feet.  He followed Steve outside.  “I don’t have a horse.”

“I know,” Steve said.  “That’s why we need to get moving.”

“You’re going to make me run, aren’t you?” Bucky said sourly.

Steve mounted Goliath and looked down at Bucky.  “Unless you’ve learned to fly.”

“That’s not likely.”

Steve shrugged.  “You’d be surprised.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

_ He seems harmless. _

 

It was the only thing Peggy had written last night and he could almost hear her disapproval in the brevity of her message.  Steve looked over at Bucky, who was doubled over, catching his breath as they stopped at the stream.  Bucky was a good man, a loyal friend.  But Steve had fought next to him enough times to know he was far from harmless.

Steve was shocked that Bucky had kept up as well as he had, given how pickled he’d been yesterday.  It hadn’t been a random occurrence, Steve knew.  Bucky had lost himself in drink for a long time.  Steve wondered if this quest to kill Pierce might give Bucky a sense of purpose, the same way it did for Steve.   But as Bucky pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a drink, Steve knew it was going to be a little more complex for Bucky.  Steve looked away, watching the hawk gliding on currents of warm air.

“Who is she?”

Steve looked over at Bucky, eyebrow arched.

“The woman,” Bucky said carefully.  “Last night.”

Steve looked away.

“She’s a beauty,” Bucky offered.

Steve looked back at him.  “You saw her?  Spoke to her?”  He hated how quiet his voice sounded.  He knew that Bucky had no idea how much Steve would give for even a glimpse of Peggy.   Bucky nodded, sitting down on one of the large rocks near the stream.  He seemed relieved.  Steve wondered if Bucky thought he hallucinated Peggy.  Steve sympathized.  He often felt the same way.  

“She wanted food,” Bucky said, “so I shared what I had.  She didn’t seem real interested in talking to me.”

Steve smiled, ducking his head.  He knew, quite well, how prickly Peggy could be when she chose.  “What did she say?”

Bucky shrugged.  “I asked her where you were, she said you were busy.  That’s about it, really.  She didn’t stick around for long.”

Steve nodded, looking at the hawk, now perched high in a nearby tree.  “She makes her own way.”

“So we’ll meet up with her again?”

Steve looked at him and then away.  “You’ll see her again.”  He knew it was true.  Traveling so closely together, there was no way Peggy and Bucky wouldn’t cross paths.  Even if Steve would prefer they didn’t.  Steve was irrationally jealous of his friend.

“So is she - “ Bucky started.  “I mean, you two both disappeared last night.”

“She’s my wife,” Steve said tightly.  He gave Bucky a hard look.

Bucky nodded.  “Wife.  Got it.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ He is far from harmless, wife.  But he is good in a fight.  He owes me a debt.  See if you can do something about his feet.  His whining bothers the horse. _

  
  


Peggy gave the book a wry smile and flipped it shut before packing it back in the saddlebag.  She looked through the rough hewn boards that were walls for the dilapidated barn.  There was a fire outside.  She could see Bucky sitting near it, peeling off his boots.  His flask was nearby.   She took the supplies out of the saddlebag, mixing up the foul smelling paste.  Grabbing the lengths of muslin cloth, she gave Goliath a final pat before approaching Bucky.

He spun around, cursing when he saw her.  He slumped back down on the log, watching her warily.  He was having trouble focusing.  Clearly, he was medicating his discomfort in his own way.   “He said you’d show up again.”

She gave him a wry smile.  “Indeed.”  She crouched down in front of Bucky, motioning to his feet.  “May I?”

He narrowed his gaze, but finally nodded.  He watched as she cleaned the blisters and raw patches on his feet, and then carefully dressed them in the paste and muslin cloth.  “You’re a healer.  He didn’t mention that.”

She shrugged, sitting down on the opposite end of the log.  She gave him an appraising look.  “Tell him he has to go slower tomorrow or you’re never going to make it.”

Bucky snorted.  “I’ll tell him.”  He shook his head, frowning.  “He won't like it.  It’ll take us weeks to get to Aquila.”

She was silent for a long time.  “Aquila,” she said carefully.  “Is that where he’s taking us?”

Bucky opened his mouth and then closed it again.  He finally nodded.  “Yeah.  Aquila.”

She pinned him with her gaze.  “ _ Why _ is he taking us to Aquila?”

Bucky shook his head.  He was drunk, but apparently not so drunk that he couldn't read the displeasure in her features.  “You’re going to have to ask him.”

She snorted, staring into the fire.  She was aware that Bucky was watching her.  She had no idea what Steve might have told him about anything.  But she was fairly certain that if Bucky knew they were headed to Aquila, then Bucky knew why.  Which was more than Peggy knew.

“Where is he?” Bucky asked.

Peggy looked over at him, frowning.  “He ... roams, at night.”

“Without a shirt?”

She frowned.

Bucky nodded toward her.  “You’re wearing his tunic.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, and refused to answer.

Taking another long pull from the flask, Bucky studied her.  “You’re not what I imagined.”

She looked at him again. Unsolicited observations from a drunk were rarely complementary and she braced herself.

“Steve’s wife,” he said, leaning back, looking at her.  “You’re not what I expected.”  He took a breath.  “Don’t get me wrong.  You’re beautiful.  I expected that.  But the rest of you - “

She glared at him.

“I’m betting your hands are as good at hurting people as they are at helping people,” he said flatly.  “You don’t look soft.  I figured Steve would end up with some pretty little girl who would give him a pack of little blond cherubs.  But you ...”  He shook his head.  

“ _ I _ ?” she prompted waspishly.

He smiled at her and winked.  “You’re dark.”

She snorted, shaking her head, looking back at the fire.  “I assure you that when I married him, I was every bit the prim and proper young lady.”

“So what changed?”

Turning, she looked at him.  “The ... existence we share is not normal.”

Bucky leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, watching her intently.  “What did the Bishop do to you?”

Giving him a soft smile, she pushed herself to her feet.  “Leave the poultice overnight.  It should be much better in the morning.  Tell him to go slow.”

  
  
  


_ He’s a better liar than you, husband.  Why are you taking us to Aquila?  Your hawk may not question, but I do.  Tell me yourself, or I will have the truth from him.  The choice is yours. _

  
  


* * *

 

 

“What did you say to her?”

Bucky scrambled, trying to find his footing.  Steve had his hands fisted in Bucky’s jacket,  holding him up so that his feet barely touched the ground.  Bucky blinked quickly, trying to get his bearings.  “What?”

Steve let him go and Bucky crashed to the ground, still half drunk and mostly asleep.

Pacing in a tight circle, Steve shook his head.  He scowled at Bucky.  “I said what did you say to her?”

“Say? I, uh ...”  He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  “I don’t know.”

“Think harder.”

Bucky shook his head, looking up at Steve who was clearly irate.  “I, uh,” he said, wracking his brain.  “I told her she wasn’t who I expected you to marry.”

Steve gave him an incredulous look.  “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said lamely.  “I just, I guess I expected you to end up with some cute little merchant’s daughter or something.  Someone young and pretty who would give you adoring looks and scores of brats.”

“Someone young and pretty,” Steve repeated darkly, “I swear to God, if you said that to her - “

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky assured him.  He was mostly certain he was remembering that correctly.  He hoped.  “I told her that she wasn’t what I expected.  I said - “  He stopped, pursing his lips together as he looked up at Steve.

“You said  _ what _ ?” Steve demanded.

“I said she was ... dark.”

Steve frowned. “ _ Dark _ ?  What the hell does that mean?”

Bucky gave him a withering look.  “Don’t play dumb, Rogers,” he said flatly.  “She’s a hell of a woman.  Beautiful.  Smart.  Sexy as hell.  But she’s dangerous.  Anyone with two eyes can tell that.”

Shaking his head, Steve seemed to wilt.  He sat down on the log by the fire, scrubbing a hand over the top of his head, frowning.  He looked lost.  And sad.  Bucky wasn’t sure why.  Steve was wearing his shirt again, which meant he’d seen a hell of a lot of his wife recently.

Bucky dusted himself off and took a seat on the log as well.  He looked over at Steve.  Bucky wasn’t clear on why Steve was asking him what was said, rather than just asking his wife.  Clearly they’d spoken.  Surely it would have been easier to ask her.   Shaking his head, Bucky said, “She told me that when you two married she was a prim and proper young lady.”

Steve snorted and then seemed to catch himself, frowning.  He looked over at Bucky.  “She said that?”

Bucky nodded.

Steve laughed, shaking his head.  “A lady, to be certain.  Her father was a lord.  But prim and proper might be a stretch.”

“So she was - “ Bucky said, arching an eyebrow.

Steve glared at him.  “No.  She wasn’t.”  He winced.  “I mean, well, she was  _ with me _ .”

Bucky chuckled.

“Don’t even,” Steve said darkly.  “I swear, if you try anything with her, it will be the last thing you do.”

Looking at him placidly, Bucky said, “I appreciate you trying to defend her honor and all that, and no offense, but she’s scarier than you.”  He took a deep breath.  “She wants to know why we’re going to Aquila.”

The hawk sailed across the clearing, perching atop the old barn, watching them.  Steve looked up at her.  “What did you tell her?”

“To ask you.”

Steve nodded.  The hawk glided down from the barn, perching on a branch only several feet from where he sat.  He held out his arm and she hopped over to him.  He looked at her and she looked at him.  He used his free hand to smooth down the feathers of her chest.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked at him.

“How did you end up with a vendetta against the Bishop?  Why are you and your formerly fancy wife on the run?”

Steve shook his head.  He moved his arm and the hawk took flight, gliding across the meadow.  He watched the bird.  Finally, he pushed himself to his feet.  “Let’s get going,” he said.  “We’re wasting daylight.”

Bucky frowned.  “She said to tell you that you need to go slower or my feet are never going to make it.”

“Duly noted,” Steve said, heading for the barn.

  
  
  


_ I am convinced that we can find a way to end this misery.  It lies in Aquila.  Have no fear, the Bishop will not come near you.  That I swear to you, wife. _

  
  


* * *

 

 

Peggy approached the campfire and Bucky set out a mug of ale without looking at her.  She took it, sinking to the ground next to him.   He looked over at her.  He seemed markedly more sober than she’d ever seen him and he watched her carefully.  

“Are you two fighting?" he asked.  "Is that it?  You just can’t stand to be around each other?  You have to split custody of the horse and bird?”

Peggy arched an eyebrow and took a drink of the ale.  “The bird is his.”

Bucky looked over at her in question.  

She shook her head, looking away.  “I would give anything to be able to share a mug of ale and a fire with him,” she said quietly, staring into the flames.  She laughed then, bitterly.  “A bed.  Hell, I don’t even need a bed.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

They ate in silence, sharing a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread, bartered from the old farmer whose barn they were using for the night.   “Do you have a name?”

She looked at him, trying to bite back her smile.  “He didn’t tell you my name?”

Bucky shook his head.  “He said you were his wife. That seemed to be the important bit.”

She laughed.  “Margaret,” she said.  “I go by Peggy.”

His eyes went wide.  “ _Peggy?_ ”  He seemed to catch himself and asked, “How long have you and Steve known each other?”

“Let me guess,” she said, “he told you about the hayloft when we were fourteen?”

Bucky laughed.  “I just wanted to make sure you were the same Peggy before I said anything.”

“The one and only,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

When they were finished with the stew and the ale, Bucky returned the bowl and mug to the farmer.  He hurried back to the fire.  Peggy directed him to remove his boots and she checked his feet, frowning.   “They still look terrible,” she said.  She pushed herself to her feet and walked the barn.  She returned some minutes later with more of that awful poultice.  

When she finished, she sat down again, closer this time.  He was struck anew by her beauty.  He’d meant what he told her earlier, that she wasn’t what he expected when he thought of Steve’s wife.  Steve was a good man, hard working, bright.  But he tended toward simplicity and straightforwardness.  And neither of those two characteristics could be used to describe Peggy.  Bucky had a very hard time imagining her and Steve together.

Bucky opened his mouth to speak and the air was split by a wolf’s howl.  Peggy was immediately on her feet.   Bucky sat where he was, but across the clearing, he could see the wolf, an enormous creature.  He reached for the crossbow and Peggy immediately stilled his hand.  She shook her head at him.  “No.”

He watched in shocked horror as she crossed the clearing toward the wolf.  The wolf watched her too, but as she came nearer, he moved, falling into step at her side.

Bucky watched until they were both out of sight.  “Fuck me.  I’m not even drunk.”

  
  
  
  


_ Slow down or his feet are going to be irreparably damaged.  The only thing that Aquila ever held for me was you.  I have no desire to return. _

_ How exactly will you end our misery?  I am so lonely I fear I may die of it.  I want you at my side.  I want you in my bed.  I think of you often, husband.  I miss you beyond measure. _

  
  


END CHAPTER

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

“We have to find shelter.”

Bucky glared up at Steve as he jogged along behind the horse.  It had been pissing down freezing rain all day.  Bucky was soaked to the bone.  But now, all of a sudden, they had to find shelter.   The small farm was considerably more visible than Bucky knew Steve preferred.  But with night quickly approaching and the rain intensifying, they were out of options.  The grounds appeared to be empty.  It was probably for sale.  Vacant, but not abandoned.

The barn was well made, warm and dry.  Bucky watched as Steve bedded down the horse, scraping off the excess water and toweling him dry.  From the rafters, the hawk watched everything.   “It’s going to be a damp night,” Bucky said.

“It’s not night yet,” Steve replied absently.  He glanced up at the hawk in her perch.   Bucky was doing his best to wring out his clothes.   Looking over at him, Steve said, “There’s a firepit outside, under the lean to.  It shouldn’t be visible from the road.  See if you can find some dry wood.  You’ll need to dry out your clothes.”

Bucky gave him a withering look, but went outside.  Sure enough, there was a firepit and it was sheltered enough to be out of the rain.  After some searching, he found a cache of firewood near the darkened house.  He took several armloads back to the barn, dropping them on the ground.   It took some doing, but he got the fire started.  He rigged up a couple of supports, which he used to hang his shirt so it could dry.  He peeled out of his boots, setting them near the fire.  Rubbing his hands over his arms, he turned back to the barn.

He walked into the barn and immediately heard a female yelp.  His brow furrowed.  “Peggy?”

Her head popped up over the edge of the stall next to Goliath’s.  It was obvious she wasn’t wearing any clothes.  “Wait outside,” she said, glaring.

Bucky turned, retreating outside.  What the hell?  Where did she come from?  And why wasn’t she wearing any clothes?  And where the hell was Steve?  Bucky was fairly certain if that was his wife in there naked, he’d be in there as well.  And they’d both be very busy.

“All right,” she called.

He went inside the barn again.  It was quite dim and she’d lit a lamp.  She was dressed in her brown leather pants and a coarse tunic, the color of dried heather.  She’d been wearing it for the last several days, he’d noticed.  Ever since he mentioned her wearing Steve’s shirt, she hadn’t done it again.   “I didn’t realize you were in here,” he said.

“Yes, well, now you do,” she said tartly.

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short.  All of the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end as he stared at the gigantic wolf, standing in the doorway to the stable.  Peggy stepped around Bucky before he could stop her, seeming to take no notice of the vicious animal.  She walked over to the saddlebags and started rooting through them, extracting the large book he’d seen both her and Steve writing in.

Bucky reached out toward Peggy and she turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow before following his gaze to the wolf.  When she saw it, she smiled and held out her hand to the beast.  The wolf padded silently to her, sniffing eagerly at her face before circling her several times in rapid succession.  Then the wolf sat down, practically curling around her before turning to Bucky and baring his teeth.

Peggy smiled again, vigorously rubbing the wolf’s coat.  “He doesn’t like you,” she said to Bucky, sounding completely unsurprised about this development.

Bucky shook his head as if to clear it.  “I don’t - “  He stopped, falling silent.  Frowning, he looked at Peggy.  Even for her, this was weird.  Everything since Steve showed up had been weird.  And Bucky had written off a lot of it because he’d been drunk out of his mind.  But he’d been pretty damn sober for the last two days.  This wasn’t right.  “This can’t possibly be real.”

“Feel free to tell the wolf you don’t believe in him,” she said, turning away.  “I assure you his teeth are quite real.”

Bucky shrugged, at a loss.  “What am I supposed to do?”

“You can sit down,” she said.  “But I advise keeping your distance.  As long as you don’t touch or threaten me, he will likely leave you alone.”

Frowning, Bucky said, “Likely?”

She shrugged.  “You’re welcome to go back outside in the rain.”

“Why doesn’t  _ he _ go out in the rain?” Bucky snapped.

The wolf growled, low and deep.  Peggy stroked its head, smiling.  “Because he doesn’t like the rain.”

Bucky shook his head, wondering what the hell he was doing here.  He thought Steve and that damn bird were weird, but they didn’t have anything on Peggy and her murderous lapdog.  “I’m going to go stand by the fire and wait for my clothes to dry.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ I ache for you, husband.  I am hollow and wanting. _

_ Now that you’ve brought your friend along on this adventure, I can’t even tend to my hunger in peace.  He’s always, irritatingly, present, asking questions, making observations.  He’s afraid of the wolf, and the wolf does not like him.  But I find he has some uses. _

_ I did not realize how starved I was to hear your name, if even on the lips of your friend.  I read your words.  I smell your scent on the clothes we share.  But I didn’t not realize how I longed for confirmation that you do exist, that you aren’t simply a wraith haunting my dreams. _

_ I think of you and try to ease my own longing.  My fingers are a poor substitute for yours.  I ache to know your taste, to feel your kiss.  I wish nothing more than to pull you over me, to shelter you inside my body, and feel you move in me.  I want to hold you close as you spend yourself within me. _

_ I miss you more than I miss the sun. _

_ I do not want to go to Aquila. _

_ If I slit your friend’s throat, will it end your ridiculous plan?  I wonder.  It would certainly be quieter. _

  
  


Steve shut the book and packed it away, shifting uncomfortably.  Peggy had not been in the habit of writing out such intimate thoughts.  They were as thrilling as they were crushing.  The sentiment was entirely mutual.  Steve wasn’t entirely certain he possessed a soul anymore.  But if he did, he would sell it for one more night with her.

He wondered how far his actions were pushing her.  She left little doubt that she did not agree with his decision to return to Aquila.  Though he was fairly certain her threats on Bucky’s life were simply so he would understand how serious she was.  Peggy may have changed, but she was not one to murder in cold blood.  Steve had faith in that.

He led Goliath out of the barn and climbed into the saddle.  He studied the sun, sitting just above the horizon.  Yawning, Bucky exited the barn.  He stamped his booted feet and looked at Steve expectantly.   Steve heard the hawk’s cry and turned, watching her gliding over the field toward him.  He held out his arm and she lighted on it.  He gave her a wry smile.  “Good morning.”

He looked at Bucky.  “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s an ass, you know.  A complete and total ass.  I have no idea why you married him.”

Peggy looked down at where Bucky was collapsed in a mound of hay on the barn floor.  “He made you run again today.”

“For fucking miles, Peggy.   _ Miles _ .  What the hell did I ever do to him to warrant this treatment?”

She knew, regardless of Bucky’s whining, that Steve obviously had care for his friend.  They were in a village for the night.  Currently in the barn behind the inn.  But there was a hot meal waiting and a dry place to sleep.  It wasn’t a concession that Steve would make for just anyone.  He must have felt bad about making Bucky run so far today.  

“That’s a good question,” she said, leaning back against one of the stalls.  “What did you do to him?”  

Bucky pushed himself up on his elbows looking at her.  “What do you mean?”

“How did you meet?” she asked.  “He’s never told me.  And why do you owe him a debt?”

Bucky frowned.  “You should ask Steve.”

She gave him a hard look.  “I’m asking you.”

Bucky pushed himself up into a sitting position and brushed the loose hay off his shirt.  “We were in the guard together.  We signed up about the same time.”

“Eager young soldiers together?” she asked with a smile, trying to imagine Bucky and Steve, so young and enthusiastic.  She hadn't known Steve at that time in his life, and it was hard to imagine.  It was doubly hard to try and imagine Bucky at a more innocent time.

Bucky frowned.  “Not exactly.  I mean, sure, Steve was the perfect young soldier.  I wasn’t new to that life.”

She studied him closely.  “What does that mean?  You couldn’t have been very old.  Sixteen?  Seventeen?”

“Eighteen.  When I joined the guard,” Bucky said.  He was quieter when he continued, "But I’d known the Bishop for a long time before that.”

“Why do I think you weren’t one of his altar boys?” she asked carefully.

He smiled darkly.  “I was one of his altar boys, actually.  That’s how I met him.  Back when I was a kid, on the streets in Rome.  Before he was appointed to Aquila.  He gave me food and shelter, a place.  For a long time, that's all it was.  But later, he made it clear I had to earn my keep.  I took care of things for him,” Bucky said quietly.  “Dark deeds.  Things he couldn’t have traced back to him.  I hurt a lot of people.” 

Peggy took a deep breath.  “Does Steve know?”

He shook his head.  “No one knows.  Except Pierce.”

Studying him, Peggy tried to imagine him as a younger man.  Jaded, but not so much as he was now.  She knew that Pierce did not let go of what he considered his own.  “Something changed for you,” she said.  "Something that threatened the Bishop's hold on you."

He gave her a wry smile.  “There was a girl.”

Peggy laughed and leaned forward like she was going to share a secret.  “There’s  _ always _ a girl.”

Frowning, he said, “I suppose you’d know.”

“Touche.”

Bucky took a deep breath and looked away.  “Natasha,” he said finally.  “Her name was Natasha.”

“And she was a fair young maiden?” Peggy prompted.

Shaking his head, Bucky looked at her.  “No,” he said flatly.  “She wasn’t.  She was a thief and a spy and I loved her.”  He pursed his lips together, shaking his head, his expression hard.  “No one knew.  That’s how she wanted it.  We kept it quiet.  I didn’t tell anyone.  Not even Steve.”

Peggy sobered, nodding.

Clearing his throat, Bucky continued, “Pierce saw her, at the winter festival.  Natasha and I weren’t betrothed or anything like that.  But we were involved.  I knew what she was.  She knew what I was.  We were a good match.”

“Until Pierce got involved,” Peggy said.

Bucky frowned.  “She didn’t tell me.  I found out later.  I think at first Natasha probably went along with it.  She was nothing if not enterprising.  Pierce is a powerful man.  Lots of connections.   Lots of secrets.  I’m sure she thought she could make it worth her while and disappear before he had any idea.”

“Pierce is no fool,” Peggy said.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “No, he’s not.  And I think she was in way too deep before she figured that out.”

“He hurt her,” Peggy said softly.

Bucky snorted.  His eyes were glassy, his jaw hard.  “He murdered her.  And left her in my bed.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy said quietly.

Shrugging, Bucky said, “I wasted so much time.  I never told her.  Not really.  She was dead before I realized exactly what she meant to me.”  He looked at Peggy.  “So I decided to kill Pierce.”  He frowned.  “It probably would have gone better if I hadn’t had an entire flask of brandy first.”

Such bland words.  Peggy could only imagine the agony Bucky must have been in.  “Most people don’t live to regret an attempt on the Bishop’s life.”

“I wasn’t supposed to,” Bucky said wryly.  “They threw me in the dungeons.  I was supposed to hang.  But Steve, and a couple of other guards, they helped me get out of the cell.  I made my way through the sewers, snuck out of the city.”

Peggy whistled.  “I’m impressed.  I didn’t think anyone had ever escaped Aquila’s dungeons.”

Bucky shrugged.  “As far as I know, I’m the only one.  It’s not quite the honor you’d think.”

Peggy opened her mouth to reply, but there was shouting outside, someone calling for help.  Peggy went to the barn door, Bucky at her heels, and looked out.  There was a man, standing on the steps of the inn, calling for a help, for a healer.  He was desperate.

Peggy looked at Bucky and then hurried toward the inn.   As it turned out, the man was the innkeeper and his wife, Leonora, was heavy with child.  She had been in labor for days and the midwife was away.   Peggy sent Bucky for the saddlebags while she directed the innkeeper and one of the serving girls to prepare the other supplies she would need.  Leonora was strong.  This was her third child, but she was so exhausted.

Peggy quickly learned that the innkeeper, while a devoted husband, was of the squeamish sort.  And the serving girl was a good worker, but so very young.  Peggy deputized Bucky as her assistant and was shocked at how efficient and matter of fact he was.   The labor was a difficult one for all involved, especially Leonora and the child.  But with both Peggy and Bucky’s assistance, the child was safely delivered.  As Peggy tended to Leonora, Bucky and the serving girl cleaned the baby and wrapped him in a soft blanket.  Peggy took him and set him gently in Leonora’s arms, watching them both.

The innkeeper, Lorenzo, was ecstatic.  He opened a new cask of wine and invited everyone to celebrate the birth of his first son.

Once Peggy was certain that Leonora was going to be okay, she washed up and joined the revelry.  She and Bucky both imbibed more than was prudent.  But it had been a long and taxing evening and everyone needed a release.  It was the first time in a very long time that Peggy had laughed.  She even danced.

Leaning on one another heavily, Peggy and Bucky made their way back to the stables.  They tumbled down together into the mound of hay, still laughing.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Peggy said, “but you’re surprisingly useful when you’re not stinking drunk.”

“Well, I try,” Bucky said wryly.  He looked over at Peggy and shrugged.  “Blood and guts are nothing new.  I’ve seen plenty of that in battle.  At least tonight, it was for life, not death.”

“Indeed,” Peggy said.  The combined effect of the wine and exhaustion was making her maudlin.  Her longing for Steve was a physical ache.

Bucky looked over at her, his brow puckered in a frown.  “Why don’t you and Steve have kids?”

She looked at him and then up at the ceiling, blinking quickly.  “I can’t have children,” she said quietly.

“Oh,” he said softly.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean - “

“It’s all right,” Peggy said, giving him a soft smile.  

 

* * *

 

 

There was nothing new in the book.  

In nearly two thousand days, Peggy had never failed to write in that book, even if it was just to yell at him.

Steve looked down at Bucky, who was still passed out in the pile of hay, his arm slung over his face.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt.  And Peggy’s clothes were scattered nearby, rather than packed in the oilcloth bag.

“Buck!”

Bucky shot up, looking around frantic.  He saw Steve and relaxed, and then promptly leaned over and vomited.   Steve frowned, looking away.   Slowly, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, wincing.  “Oh, fuck, my head.”  He looked around.  “Where’s Peggy?”

“Gone,” Steve said, snatching up the clothes and shoving them in the bag.  

Bucky watched him, frowning.  He shook his head and then winced again.  “She was drunker than me last night.  I can’t believe she’s already up.”

“Hurry up,” Steve snapped.  “Get dressed.  We’re leaving.”

Bucky groaned and Steve headed outside.  It was quite a while before Bucky emerged from the stables, but he finally did, stretching and shrugging into his shirt.

The hawk cried and Steve turned to see her glide out of a tree toward him.  He held out his arm, but she sailed past him and finally lighted on Bucky’s arm as he stretched.

Bucky looked at the hawk, perched there, talons undoubtedly digging into his arm.  “Uh.”

Steve glowered.  “What happened last night?”

Bucky waved his arm slightly, trying to dislodge the hawk.  She wouldn’t move.  “Last night?  Nothing.  We uh, helped deliver a baby and then danced and got really drunk.”

“A baby?”

Bucky nodded, walking toward Steve.  “Yeah, the innkeeper’s wife.”  He held his arm out to Steve.  “Take her.”

Steve finally relented, guiding the hawk to move to his arm and then holding her leash.  “What else happened?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said.  “We just talked.”

“About what?”

“About none of your damn business,” Bucky snapped.  He glared up at Steve and then finally sighed.  “About the old times.  About Nat.”  He dragged a hand through his hair.  “Peggy told me about how she can’t have kids.”

Steve frowned, looking at the hawk.  She stood placidly on her perch.  “Was she upset?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. “I don’t think so.  She just seemed ... tired.”

Steve nodded.  “Every minute you spend with her, I envy you.”

Bucky looked up at him, frowning.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“If you whined less, you could run more,” Steve said, looking down at Bucky.

“You know what, Rogers - “

They both stopped, scanning the horizon.  It was late afternoon, but there was still plenty of light to see.

“Riders,” Steve said.  “Five of them.  They’re wearing the Guard uniforms.”

Bucky looked around.  There was no shelter, nowhere to run.  They were on a rocky plain.  “Why would the Guard be this far out?”

Steve shook his head.  “We’re getting closer to Aquila.  Maybe it’s just a patrol.”

“Maybe,” Bucky said.

The guards continued to close the distance.

“Dammit,” Steve swore.  “The lead rider is Rumlow.”

“Fuck.”

Bucky took the knife out of his waistband and Steve grabbed the crossbow.   Steve aimed for Rumlow and the bolt went wide, hitting the following guard in the neck.   Bucky lost track of things in the fray.  He unseated one of the riders and then took the guard out with his knife.  Steve hit at another guard with a crossbow bolt.

Overhead, the hawk cried and Bucky looked up, watching her glide.  He turned to see a guard aiming a crossbow at Steve.  He ran, barreling into the guard’s mount, causing the bolt to fly away.  Bucky pulled the guard off the mount and was poised to strike.

“ _ Buck!” _

Bucky turned.  In the distance, he would see Rumlow riding away.  Steve was on the ground, crouched over the hawk.  Bucky was only vaguely aware of the guard he’d been fighting remounting and retreating with Rumlow.  Bucky ran toward Steve, falling to his knees next to him.

Steve held the hawk, who was in obvious distress.  The crossbow bolt had pierced her chest.  Steve’s hands were shaking.  He looked up at the darkening sky.  Turning to Bucky he said, “There’s a ruined castle over that ridge.  Take Goliath and ride as fast as you can with her.  The old monk, Phillips, is there.  And a healer, Erskine.”  He held the hawk out to Bucky.

Bucky shied away.  “I can’t.  You take her.  You’re her master.  She trusts you.”

“Don’t argue with me,” Steve growled.  “Take her and go.  As fast as you can.”

Bucky didn’t understand what was going on, but he understood he had to do this.  Nodding, he jogged over to Goliath and quickly mounted.  Carefully, Steve handed him the hawk.

“Hurry,” he said.  “She’s everything I have.”

  
  


END CHAPTER


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky kicked the heavy, weathered door as hard as he could.  “Open up, dammit!”  He was outside the ruined castle's outer wall.  

The old man, who Bucky vaguely recognized as the monk, Phillips, opened the slat in the door.  He glared at Bucky.  “What do you want?”

Bucky held up the hawk.  “I need help.”

The old man narrowed his gaze, but opened the door.  He stood there, blocking the way.  “There’s always an extra place at the table for someone bringing food.”

“It’s not food,” Bucky said darkly.  “This hawk belongs to Steve Rogers.  He sent me here to get help.”

Phillips instantly sobered, his gaze locking on the hawk.  He seemed to pale and he immediately waved Bucky in.  “Bring her inside.  Hurry.”

Bucky followed Phillips inside the ruins.  The keep appeared to be in considerably better condition than the outer wall.  They skirted along a rickety wooden bridge and entered the stronghold.   “Erskine!” the old monk bellowed.  He turned around and waved Bucky to hurry.   They ended up in a room, high in the tower.  There was a small desk and a narrow bed.  Bucky watched as Phillips quickly lit candles.  

The door was opened again and Erskine entered.  Bucky had only met him a handful of times, but he knew that’s who he was.   “It’s her,” Phillips said to Erskine, motioning to the hawk in Bucky’s arms.

Erskine swallowed thickly and nodded slowly.  Carefully, he took the hawk from Bucky.  He nodded to the door.  “Outside.  Both of you.”

Bucky followed Phillips back down the stairs and into the ruined banquet hall.  It had no roof.  He watched numbly as the old man added fresh wood to the fire in the cavernous hearth.  He heard a noise and turned, watching Erskine descend the stairs.  The old healer was muttering to himself about herbs and disappeared around the corner.  

Bucky looked at Phillips, and then to the stairs.  Phillips was poking at the fire, lost in his thoughts.  Quietly, Bucky made his way to the stairs and bolted up them.  He looked at the door to the tower room.  He could see the light seeping through the weathered boards.  There was no sound from inside.  Cautiously, he pushed against the door.

Peggy lay on the bed, wrapped in a tattered old quilt.  There was a crossbow bolt lodged high on her chest, where it met her shoulder.   “Fuck,” Bucky cursed, looking at her, leaning back against the wall.

She turned her head slowly and looked at him.  Her eyes were huge, scared.  “Steve?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“He’s okay,” Bucky said.  He took a deep breath.  “The hawk was wounded in the fight.”  He swallowed thickly.  “But you already know that, don’t you?”

She screwed her eyes shut and nodded.

Bucky shook his head.  This was insane.  This was not possible.  Without conscious thought, he crossed himself.  “Are you flesh?  Or are you spirit?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, seeming more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.  “I am sorrow.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could say.  There were no words for this.   Erskine pushed through the door and gasped.  “No, no,” he said.  He grabbed Bucky by the arm, pushing him toward the door.  “Out.  You go out.  Go on.”

Bucky left, narrowly avoiding having his face hit by the slamming door.  He stumbled down the first few steps.  Slowly, numbly, he made his way back to the banquet hall.  Phillips was there, with brandy.  He offered Bucky a cup, which he gladly accepted.   They sat in silence for a long time.  The moon was high when Erskine finally descended the stairs.  Phillips looked up expectantly.

Erskine nodded.  “She will be fine.”

Phillips sagged with relief.   Outside, a lone wolf howled.  Bucky walked across the room to a hole in the wall, created by the crumbling rock.  He looked down and could see the wolf below, pacing back and forth, calling.  None of it made any sense, and yet it was.  

Bucky felt like everything was finally falling into place.  He had never seen Steve and Peggy together.  Bucky knew how much Steve and Peggy loved one another.  He’d witnessed their anguish for weeks.  Somehow, the Bishop had found a way to keep them apart.  It explained Steve’s murderous vendetta against the Bishop.  And the fact that Steve was obviously willing to give his own life to see the Bishop dead.

“It’s him, isn’t it,” Bucky said, looking from the wolf to Erskine and Phillips.  It wasn’t really a question.

It was finally Erskine who nodded.  

Bucky sighed.  

The wolf continued to howl and pace.

Shaking his head, Bucky left the keep and went back across the rickety bridge, to the outer wall.  He threw open the door and stood aside.  It was only moments before the wolf was sniffing at the threshold.  Bucky watched him.  Clearly, the wolf sensed the danger in entering the ruined castle.  But he was driven by something stronger than fear.

Bucky crossed the bridge again, aware that the wolf was following.  It was an unnerving experience to have such an efficient predator at his back.  Bucky ascended the steps to the tower room and opened the door.  He stood as far back as he could.  The wolf growled, watching him, but then bounded past him, into the room and onto the bed next to Peggy.

She had been drowsing, but she woke as the wolf jumped on the narrow bed, whining and sniffing at her face.  She smiled at him, patting his side.  He lay down next to her, his head on his paws, watching her intently.

Bucky turned, heading back down the stairs.  He returned to the front gate and closed it.  Eventually, he found Erskine and Phillips again.   “He’s planning to kill the Bishop,” Bucky said, sitting down and picking up his glass of brandy.

“Of all the idiot ideas,” Phillips cursed.

“What?” Erskine said, aghast.  “No, he can’t!  The curse will never be broken if he does that.”

Bucky looked at Erskine.  “Is there a way to break the curse?”

Phillips glowered at Erskine.   Erskine took a deep breath, sticking his chin out defiantly.  “Yes, there is,” he said.

“So,” Bucky said, leaning back.  “Lay it on me.”

Erskine frowned, pursing his lips together.  “They are cursed.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said dryly.  “I got that.”

“They are cursed,” Erskine repeated sourly, “ _ as long as the sun rises and sets.  As long as there is day and night.  And for as long as they both shall live _ .”

“So Steve’s right,” Bucky said.  “If he dies, Peggy will be free.”

“Is that what that boy thinks will happen?” Phillips demanded.

Erskine shook his head.  “Steven’s death would not free Peggy,” he said seriously.

“Free Peggy from what?”

They all turned to see Peggy wrapped in the quilt, standing at the foot of the stairs, the wolf at her side.  She didn’t look good.  But she clearly wasn’t at death’s door.   Phillips and Erskine both made noises of alarm, jumping to their feet.  The wolf immediately moved in front of Peggy, growling.   “Please,” Erskine said calmly, “sit down.  Your stitches.  You will pull them.”

Frowning, Peggy moved farther into the room.  She still kept a healthy distance between herself and everyone else.  She sat down and the wolf immediately sat at her feet.

“Steve plans to kill the Bishop,” Bucky said.

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “Is that all?  I presumed as much.  He isn’t exactly skilled at subterfuge.”

Erskine made a sound of pure frustration.  “If Steven kills the Bishop, the curse can never be undone.”

Peggy frowned at him.  “In five years, I haven’t seen any evidence that it can be undone.  I’d sleep better, metaphorically, if I knew Pierce was dead.”

Bucky leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs.  “I’m pretty sure Steve means to die in the process,” he said, looking over at Peggy.  “He thinks it will free you.  That you’ll be able to live a normal life once he’s gone.”

She paled, going very still.  She looked down at the wolf at her feet who blinked up at her placidly.  She looked at Bucky.  “He told you this?”

“Not in so many words,” Bucky admitted.  “But I know him.  As you noted, he’s not exactly a spy.  I know what he’s planning.”

Peggy’s jaw clenched tightly.  “I told him I didn’t want to return to Aquila.  Especially not if this is his plan.  I won’t be a party to this madness.”

“I’m not sure you have a whole lot of choice,” Bucky said flatly.

Peggy looked away, frowning.  

“I am trying to tell you,” Erskine said, “that I believe I have found a way.  An eclipse.  A day without night.  And a night without day.”

Peggy looked at him.

“The eclipse is in three days,” Erskine said.  “The Bishop will hear the confession of the clergy in the cathedral at Aquila.  If you and Steven can confront the Bishop together as man and woman, the curse will be undone.”

“You  _ know _ this?” Peggy asked.  “Or you  _ hope _ ?”

Erskine frowned.  “I  _ have faith _ .”

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky pushed the door open, Steve was sitting on the narrow bed, the book next to him.  He looked like hell.  Steve glanced over at him.  “Last night, was she - “

“She was fine,” Bucky said.  “She’s strong.  The wolf was more upset than she was.”

Steve snorted, shaking his head.  

“Did Erskine talk to you?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded.

“And?”

“And I think he’s a crazy old man wracked with guilt,” Steve said quietly.  “He has no idea if it will work.  I’m not about to risk taking Peggy back to Pierce only to find out Erskine was wrong.”

“So you’d abandon her?” Bucky asked carefully.  “After everything she’s sacrificed for you?”

Steve’s head snapped toward Bucky and he glared.  “Abandon her?  I’m doing this  _ for _ her.”

“And if you think this is what she wants, then you don’t know her at all,” Bucky said.  “You may have known her.  Once.  But you don’t know her now.  She’s a hell of a fighter.  She’s not one to run away from anything.  She loves you more than life.  She's had to.”

Steve shook his head, seeming to deflate.  He looked lost, but resigned.  “This is one fight she’s going to miss.  I’m leaving her here with Phillips and Erskine.  She may not thank me, but she will be free.  That is what matters.  I will face the Bishop, alone.”

Bucky shook his head.  He wasn’t shocked.  He always knew Steve was a stubborn son of a bitch.  “Not alone,” he said.  “I’m coming with you.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ I could kill them, wife.  Strangle them all for daring to give you false hope where none exists.  I understand that Erskine helped craft this torment, and he feels honor bound to see it undone.  But I cannot risk it.  I will not risk you.  I expect that you will be angry with me and all I can do is ask your forgiveness.  This is my choice, Peggy.  I love you.  Always. _

  
  


Peggy wiped her tears impatiently with the back of her hand.  She stared out the tower window at the dark expanse of rocky plain.  There was no one in sight.  Steve, Bucky and Goliath had been gone for hours.  Luckily it was winter.  With short days and long nights, she had the advantage of time over Steve right now.  And his progress would be slowed by the fact that Bucky was on foot.

She glanced down at the book, feeling irrationally angry.  Steve had left the damn book.  Just like he left her.  She honestly didn’t know which one made her more angry.

“Hurry up,” Peggy yelled to Erskine and Phillips.  “We’re leaving.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky doused the fire and turned to Steve, who had just mounted Goliath.  Their path to Aquila had taken them across the mountain pass and it was bitterly cold.  Snow covered the ground and the trees glittered with ice crystals in the morning light.   Bucky heard the cry of a hawk and both he and Steve turned, watching as she glided across the frozen river toward them.  

Out of habit, Steve held out his arm and she lighted on it.   He frowned deeply at the bird, who seemed utterly unconcerned with his reaction.

“I tried to tell you not to leave her,” Bucky said pointedly.

Steve frowned at Bucky.

“You’re in trouble,” Bucky said, shrugging unsympathetically.

Steve sighed.  There was a note, tied next to the bird’s anklet.  He removed it and carefully unrolled the strip of parchment.

 

 

_ Your choice is idiotic.  Just like you. _

  
  


* * *

 

 

Peggy pulled on her boot and looked up at Bucky.  She watched as he turned, leaving the shelter of the trees to meet Phillips and Erskine in their cart.  It was freezing.  They were still high in the mountains, next to an ice covered lake.  She pulled Steve’s heavy cloak tighter around her body.

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked.

“We’re going to trap that damn wolf,” Phillips said.  He leaned over and pulled a shovel out of the back of the cart, tossing it to Bucky.  “Get digging.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy stood, watching Bucky, Erskine and Phillips attempt to dig a hole large enough to trap the wolf.  It was a comedy of errors, though Peggy wasn’t laughing.   She could hear the wolf in the distance.  

She wished Steve wasn’t such a damned stubborn fool.  He was hell bent on storming into Aquila, killing Pierce, and probably dying in the process.  Peggy refused to allow that to happen, especially when there was a chance they could break the curse completely.   Maybe Erskine was right about the eclipse.  Maybe he was wrong.  But what harm was there in finding out, especially when they were so close?  

If they could trap the wolf, then they could sneak Steve inside the city under cover of darkness and Pierce would be none the wiser.  Aquila was a veritable fortress.  It’s how the city had managed to thrive for so long.  Between the moat, the wall, and the Guard, it wasn’t an easy place to sneak into, or out of.  

After Steve and Bucky’s recent fight with Rumlow, the Bishop’s guard were obviously on the lookout for Steve.  And Peggy had no doubt that Steve’s plan was simply to fight his way into the city.  While Peggy didn’t doubt he could do it, it would make trying to confront the Bishop during the eclipse nearly impossible.  They needed the element of surprise.

Peggy rubbed her arms, looking at the moon.  She hated this.  Hated being so at odds with Steve.  She did occasionally wonder at the absurdity of arguing with someone she hadn’t spoken to in nearly five years.   This would be so much easier if they weren’t both trying to circumvent the other’s will.  She understood that Steve was determined to protect her.  While she appreciated the sentiment in theory, she had no interest in it in practice.  He truly seemed to think that if he died, it would free her.  

Peggy had no intention of living in a world without Steve.  What appeal could the sun possibly hold if he wasn’t there to see it with her?  She’d already secured a vow from Erskine and Phillips - before they’d even set out after Steve.  If Steve failed in his quest, they were to kill the hawk.  She knew they both hated the idea, but she’d made them swear.  

“Are you done yet?” Peggy demanded.

“I think so,” Bucky said, giving Phillips a shove out of the hole.  Erskine scrambled out unassisted.

Peggy watched as they covered the trap with branches to disguise it.  They were cutting it close.  Dawn was not far away.

“Okay,” Bucky said, breathless, dusting snow off his hands.  “Your turn.”  He herded Phillips and Erskine toward the cover of the trees.

Nodding, Peggy pulled back the cloak’s hood and stepped out into the clearing.  The wolf’s howls became louder.  Peggy situated herself so that the trap was between her and the wolf.  He would have to cross it to reach her.

As she watched, he loped into view on the opposite side of the ice covered lake, clearly visible against the expanse of pristine snow.  He headed straight for her.  Her heart pounded in her chest.  This had to work.   The wolf came closer and Peggy reached out toward him.  

The stillness was shattered by a deafening crack.  

The ice beneath the wolf gave way, plunging him into the frigid lake water.

“No!” Peggy yelled, running toward the wolf.  As the ice cracked under her feet, she stopped.

Bucky was at the lake’s edge, testing the ice.  “Get the rope!” he yelled to Erskine and Phillips as he started across the ice on his stomach, toward the struggling wolf.

Peggy followed him, carefully moving over the ice.  It was cracking and splintering, but not giving way completely.

Bucky reached the wolf first.  Phillips had thrown the rope to him and Bucky was desperately trying to loop it around the thrashing wolf.

“Hurry!” Peggy yelled.  She knew the wolf was tiring quickly in the frigid water.  She reached the edge of the water and grabbed the wolf, pulling him near.  He was breathing hard, struggling in the water.  She could barely hold his head up.

In the fray, Bucky ended up in the water too, struggling to hoist the wolf out.  The wolf hadn’t fought Peggy, but he clawed at Bucky, trying to get leverage to climb out.  With a final shove, Bucky managed to get the wolf out of the water.  

The wolf limped several paces away and sat down heavily on the bank, shivering violently.

Peggy tugged at Bucky, helping him out.  He was hissing through his teeth.  She could see the tattered shreds of his shirt and the deep gashes on his chest from the wolf’s claws.

 

* * *

 

 

The former trap had been re-purposed.  It provided shelter from the wind and the branches gave some warmth.  Peggy lay quietly, holding the wolf.  He would live.  He stopped shivering and his coat had mostly dried.  But he was as exhausted as she was.

Peggy watched the clouds overhead fade from gray to pink.  She could feel the coming dawn.  She saw the rays of sunlight make their way down the sides of the mountains and into the little valley where they rested.

She could feel the tingling in her bones, the prickling of her skin.  The wolf shifted restlessly, turning toward her.  As she watched, his eyes changed from the wolf’s yellow, to human blue.

Peggy couldn’t breathe.  She was afraid to move.

It wasn’t that Steve ... changed.  It was that one moment, it was the wolf, and the next he was ... Steve.  He looked, fuzzy, not quite solid in some way.  But where her hand had been resting on the wolf’s body, she was now touching his chest.   _ His _ skin, beneath her fingers.

She opened her mouth to speak.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky had been watching the edge of the trap.  He saw the hawk take flight, climbing into the sky.  Steve lunged after her, and then roared in anguish, the sound echoing through the quiet valley.

Steve collapsed back into the pit, staring mutely at the sky before screwing his eyes shut.  He hung his head.  Bucky slowly pushed himself to his feet and walked to the edge of the trap.  He tossed the oilcloth bag down to Steve and turned away, giving him privacy.  He walked over to the small campfire where Erskine and Phillips were sitting.

It was some minutes later before Steve was dressed.  His eyes were red rimmed and his hands were shaking.  He advanced on Erskine.  He yanked the healer to his feet, growling, “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Erskine shook his head, shocked and scared.  “I don’t understand - “

“You let me  _ see _ her,” Steve yelled.  “ _ Touch _ her, only to have her change in front of me.”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm, trying to pull him off Erskine.  Steve rounded, shoving at Bucky with considerably more force than he’d used on the Erskine.   Bucky tripped backwards, sprawling in the snow, his cloak coming open.  Steve stopped in his tracks, staring.  Bucky looked down at his own chest, criss crossed with deep gashes.

“What the hell happened to you?” Steve demanded.

“He nearly died,” Phillips snapped at Steve.  “Saving your life.”

Steve stared blankly at Phillips and then looked back at Bucky.  He shook his head.  

Bucky pushed himself to his feet, pulling his cloak tighter around his body.  “We were trying to trap the wolf,” he said.  “You fell through the ice and nearly drowned.”

Steve’s jaw was clenched tightly.  “Why were you trying to trap the wolf?”

“So we can sneak you into the city, you stubborn bastard,” Phillips snarled.  “Rather than you trying to fight your way in.  It was Margaret’s idea.  She wants a chance at confronting the Bishop.  After everything she’s done, after getting this close, would you really deny her that chance?”

Steve looked from Phillips to Erskine and finally to Bucky.  The hawk glided down from the tree and Steve reflexively lifted his arm.  She lighted gracefully on her perch.

Steve took a deep breath and looked at the sky as if beseeching the heavens.  He shook his head.  “Let’s get out of this damn pass and I’ll show you idiots how to cage a wolf.”

 

END CHAPTER

 


	9. Chapter 9

Peggy looked at the wolf, now caged in the back of Erskine and Phillips’ little cart.  He was not pleased.  Carefully, she replaced the tarp, blocking his view of the world and vice versa.  She glanced over at Bucky.  “How’d you manage it?’

He shrugged.  “Steve climbed in the cage before he changed.  So much easier.”

Peggy snorted.  She walked over to where Goliath was tethered to the back of the cart.  He’d been smeared with mud, in a mostly futile attempt to make him look less impressive.  He seemed as pleased as the wolf with this turn of events.

“We should be off,” Erskine said.

Peggy nodded, climbing up onto the bench between Erskine and Phillips.  Bucky started down the hill, toward the lights of Aquila.   “Be safe,” Peggy said.

He looked at her and nodded.  “I’ll meet you near the north wall before dawn.”

Peggy pulled her scarf closer around her face.  Phillips snapped the reins and the little donkey started off toward the city.   The city walls loomed larger as Peggy watched.  She had forgotten just how impressive Aquila was.  The walls were enormous, as was the lone bridge that crossed the moat that ringed the city.  It was the only way into or out of the city, unless one wanted to swim the moat and sneak through the sewers like Bucky.  

There were guards stationed all along the wall and bridge.  It was late and there was almost no traffic.  The young guards manning the city gate didn’t seem to have much interest in two old curmudgeons and a woman.  They waved them into the city.   Peggy was about to breathe a sigh of relief when another guard stepped into their path, motioning for them to halt.  He was older.  And he looked like he meant business.

“What have we here, Father?” he asked, motioning to the cart.

“A surprise present, for the Bishop, from the people of my parish,” Phillips said.

The guard flipped back the tarp and the wolf immediately lunged forward, growling.  The guard jumped back, drawing his sword.

“A fine animal, don’t you think,” Erskine added.

The guard looked at them and smiled darkly, lifting the sword.  “I've never had the pleasure of killing a wolf before.”

Peggy grabbed Phillips’ arm, frantic.  They couldn’t allow him to harm the wolf.

“How strange,” Phillips said to the guard. “That's exactly what the Bishop said.”  He waited for that bit of information to hit the guard.  “I'm sure he'll understand your depriving him of the pleasure,” Phillips continued darkly. “He's a very forgiving sort of man.”

The guard had no trouble taking Phillips meaning.  He sheathed his sword and nodded.  “Go on your way.”

Phillips nodded, snapping the reins.  “Wisdom is beyond price, my son,” he said meaningfully.  “Be grateful that you have it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky peered out of the slats on the old stable, watching the street.  The sky was beginning to lighten.  Dawn was not far away.  He turned as Peggy walked up to him.  She was holding the book and she pushed it into his hands.   “Make sure he sees it, before,” she said.

Bucky nodded soberly.

Peggy stared at the ground.  “I spoke with Phillips and Erskine,” she said.  She looked up, meeting Bucky’s gaze.  “I made them swear to me that if Steve fails, that they will put the bird out of her misery.”

He sucked in a sharp breath.  “ _Peggy_.”

She shook her head, taking a step back.  “Don’t tell him.  I don’t want that to weigh on his conscience.”

Slowly, he nodded.  “Do you really think this is going to work?  Do you think the eclipse will happen?”

She gave him a weak smile.  “I have faith.”  Slowly, she closed the distance between them.  She pushed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “Thank you,” she said.  “For everything.”

He nodded, unable to reply.

 

* * *

 

 

_ You were meant for more than our cursed lives.  I have faith in you.  Always. _

  
  
  


Steve was pacing, as if he were still a caged animal.  He looked at the bird, leashed to her perch, her face covered with a hood to keep her calm and quiet.

“It should be any moment now,” Erskine said, glancing up at the sky.  “As soon as the clouds break.”

Steve shook his head, caught somewhere between anger and misery.  “It’s day,” he said shortly.  “Like it was yesterday.  Like it will be tomorrow.”  He sighed.  “The service will be over soon.”

Erskine opened his mouth to argue and Steve cut across him.  “I have one chance to kill the Bishop.  If the service ends peacefully, the cathedral bells will toll and you will know that I have failed and I am dead.”

Erskine looked heartbroken and Phillips refused to look at Steve at all.

“Get Peggy out of the city and away from Pierce,” Steve said.  “You must be gone before nightfall.  He can never know she was here.”

Erskine nodded, but said nothing.

Steve turned, reaching for his sword.  He hated the leaden disappointment that sat in his gut.  He hated that he’d dared to hope that Erskine could be right, that he and Peggy could break the curse.  Most of all, Steve hated the thought of disappointing her, abandoning her, however unintentionally.  But i n the end, though, it changed nothing.  Steve would kill Pierce, or die in the attempt.  One way or another, the torment would end for Peggy.

He mounted Goliath, aware that Bucky was jogging behind.  He rode through the streets of Aquila.  The last time he’d done this, he was the Captain of the Guard.  He felt lifetimes removed from the man he used to be.

They approached the cathedral.  A contingent of of the Bishop’s guard waited, blocking the way.  Steve pulled Goliath to a halt, looking at them.

The guards glanced at one another and then as one, they moved away, making room to let him pass.  Several of them nodded, saying, “Captain.”

Steve took a shuddering breath, thrown by their reaction.  He had not expected to find allies in Aquila.   Bucky stepped next to Steve, looking up at him.  Steve nodded, swallowing thickly.  “One way or another, Peggy will be free,” he said firmly.

Bucky cursed under his breath, looking away.

Steve’s insides went cold.  “What?”

Bucky frowned and cursed again.  “Peggy made Erskine and Phillips swear to her.”

“What?” Steve said again, louder.

Bucky looked up at him.  He exhaled sharply.  “If you fail.  If the cathedral bells toll.  She made them swear they’d kill the hawk.”

“ _ What? _ ” Steve roared.  He yanked the reins and Goliath made a tight turn.

“There isn’t time,” Bucky yelled.  “The service is almost over.  If you try and make your way back, the bells will toll.”  He shook his head.  “It will be too late.”

Steve growled, turning Goliath back toward the cathedral.  He somehow wasn’t shocked by Peggy’s actions.  But the idea of her following him in death left him gutted.  He would give anything - give all - to see her free, to see her happy.  The idea of her death being as senseless as his own was not something he could allow to pass.

Steve kicked Goliath sharply, aware that Bucky was following.  Ahead of him, more of the Bishop’s guards pulled open the cathedral doors.

Goliath stormed inside, his hooves echoing sharply on the rough stone floors.  Clergy scattered.  Pierce stood at the far end of the sanctuary, on the raised dais which held the altar.  He was dressed in his finery, long gold and white robes, holding his scepter, which Steve knew concealed a deadly blade.  He looked older, more weathered, more twisted.  Steve wondered how much of Pierce’s soul the curse had cost.  He hoped all of it.  The bastard would rot in hell.

The ceremonial words died on Pierce’s lips as he looked up and saw Steve.  Across the space of the sanctuary, Pierce glared with outrage and unbridled hatred.  “ _ You _ .”

Never taking his eyes off Pierce, Steve dismounted.  He strode toward the Bishop, his sword in hand.

Bucky yelled.  Steve barely turned in time to avoid Rumlow’s sword.  Apparently some of the Guard were still loyal to Pierce.  Rumlow lunged at Steve again.  Steve countered with a vicious swing of his own, sending Rumlow reeling backward.  Near the cathedral entrance, Steve could see Bucky fighting with the men who followed Rumlow.

The fight seemed to go on forever.  Rumlow was a skilled combatant who took every advantage, no matter how dirty.  Steve used his rage at Pierce.  He used his fear for Peggy.  He drove at Rumlow again and again, forcing him back.  

Bucky kept Rumlow’s men busy, helped by some of the guards who had been outside the cathedral.  The clergy all cowered along the sanctuary walls as the cathedral became a war zone, full of the sound of swords meeting.  Steve was aware of the giant stained glass window over the cathedral doors shattering, sending light streaming into the sanctuary.

As Steve grappled with Rumlow, he heard Bucky yell.  One of Rumlow’s men ran for the tower, where he would be able to signal for help.  Bucky threw the knife.  It hit the guard, buried deep in his back.  The man stumbled backwards, becoming entangled in the bellpulls.

Steve shook his head, watching in horror.  No.  No.  The man’s full weight fell, yanking on the ropes.  Overhead, the bells pealed loud and true, echoing for miles.  

“No,” Steve whispered.  He shook his head.  “No!”

Erskine and Phillips would hear the bells.  They would believe Steve failed.  They would think him dead.  They would fulfill their promise to Peggy. 

“ _ No _ !” Steve roared, turning, advancing on Rumlow.

Rumlow swung wide, listing off balance.  Steve lunged, burying his sword in Rumlow’s chest.  Rumlow collapsed to the ground, twitching.

Rumlow’s men, seeing their Captain fallen, retreated.

“Steve.”

Steve turned, looking at Bucky.  He followed Bucky’s gaze to the broken window.  In the sky, Steve could see the beginning of the eclipse.  The moon was just starting to pass in front of the sun, dimming the light.  Steve could feel the curse’s magic prickling along his skin.

Steve shook his head.   _ No _ .  Erskine was right.  And it was too late.  The bells already rang out news of his failure.  Peggy was already - 

Steve turned back to the altar, where Pierce stood, watching.  Steve advanced on the Bishop.  The clergy parted like water before him.  

As Steve reached the dias on which the altar stood, Pierce held up his hand.  “If you kill me now, the curse will never be broken,” he said firmly.  His lips curved into a dark smile.  “Think of your beloved Peggy.”

Steve shook his head, feeling hollow.  “Peggy is dead.”  He lifted his sword.  The Bishop cowered, going down on his knees, arms over his face.

“ _ Steve _ .”  It was barely a whisper.  

Steve turned immediately, watching as Peggy walked toward him, across the sanctuary.  Peggy, in the flesh.  She was wearing her tunic and trousers, her hair falling wildly around her shoulders like she’d thrown on clothes and raced to the cathedral as fast as she could.  He shook his head, staring at her.  She should be dead.  How was this possible?  

In a daze, he stumbled toward her, falling to his knees.  She closed the distance between them, pulling him close.  His arms went around her waist and he pushed his face against her, holding her so tight.  He could feel her arms around him, smell her, touch her.  She was alive and real and in his arms where she belonged.

He finally pulled back, looking up at her.  There were tears on her cheeks, but her features were tight.  He took her hand and realized it was fisted tightly.  Their eyes met and she opened her hand.  There, resting in her palm, were the anklets, leash, and hood the hawk had worn.  The trappings of her cursed life.

He watched as her expression turned stormy.  She glared past him at the Bishop.

Steve stood, turning to watch as she stepped past him, approaching the altar, advancing on the Bishop.  Pierce was still cowering, his gaze averted, like he couldn’t bare to look upon her.  

Peggy stopped directly in front of the Bishop, looking down at him.  “Look at me,” she demanded.

With great effort, Pierce looked up at her, blinking, like it hurt to gaze upon her.  He seemed older, smaller.

“Now look at him,” Peggy ordered.

Pierce’s gaze moved to Steve and the Bishop seemed to crumble.  He was shaking.

Peggy lifted her hand and dumped all that remained of the hawk’s bondage on Pierce.  He flinched away from them, but never took his eyes from her.

“The curse is broken,” she declared.  

Turning, she walked back toward Steve.  Behind Peggy, Steve could see Pierce lurch to his feet.  He lifted his scepter.  Steve knew it was tipped with a blade.

“If I can’t have her,” Pierce swore.  “Then no man shall.”  He lifted scepter, his eyes gleaming with murderous rage.

“Peggy,” Steve yelled, reaching for her.  She was so far away.

Steve was aware of something flying past his ear.  He watched, as the knife embedded in the Bishop’s throat.

Peggy turned, horror on her features as she watched the Bishop fall, writhing on the ground, blood pouring from the wound.  Steve looked over his shoulder, at Bucky, whose hand was still outstretched from having thrown the blade.

They all watched as the Bishop went still. 

Peggy reached for Steve at the same time he reached for her, and they pulled each other close.  She cupped his face in her hands, shaking her head as she looked up at him in wonder.

Steve had no words for the moment.  There was nothing he could say.  So he ducked his head and kissed her, long and deep.  Her fingers bit into his shoulders and she pushed up into the contact.

Steve was vaguely aware of Bucky clapping him on the back.  It was over.  It was finally over.  And Peggy was in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

“They’re going to be looking for us,” Steve said, only slightly scandalized.

“I don’t care,” Peggy replied.  She dragged him into the room.  She had no idea what it was.  A place for quiet reflection, perhaps.  It didn’t matter.  She turned the key in the lock and shoved Steve against the wall, kissing him.

She still couldn’t believe it was real, that she and Steve were finally together again.  The scene in the cathedral had been madness after the Bishop’s death.  Former guards crowded around, to witness the end of Pierce’s reign.  People had filtered in off the streets, equally eager to celebrate the Bishop’s demise.

Erskine, Phillips and Bucky finally helped Steve and Peggy extricate themselves from the fray.  Peggy wasted no time in finding a quiet place to reintroduce herself to her husband.

Steve groaned, pressing his face against the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his fingers biting into her backside.  “I missed you so much, wife.”

She didn’t respond with words.  For years all they’d shared were words and she was done with them, for a while, at least.  She went to work on the fastenings of his trousers while he did the same to hers.  She shimmied and wiggled, shoving the leather down her hips and legs, kicking it away, along with her boots.  

With a growl, he flipped their positions, pushing her back against the door, hooking her leg around his waist, and then he was sliding into her.  She gasped, her head falling back, at the feel of him.  She held him so tightly as he moved within her.  Their lips met again and again, but she was still starved for him.  Her pleasure crested almost immediately and she hissed through her teeth, her nails biting into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Peggy,” he groaned, thrusting against her once, twice, and then finding his own release.

They stood there for a long time, clasped together, trying to catch their breaths.   She reached up and brushed his hair back from his forehead.  He gave her a dopey smile.  “We’re out of practice.”

She nodded.  “We’ll fix that, husband.”

He laughed, squeezing her tightly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Please, Mother, sit down,” Peggy begged. 

Having no place of their own in Aquila, Steve and Peggy went to Peggy’s mother’s home.  Amanda had never known what happened to Peggy and Steve.  Over the years, Peggy had considered writing, but she could never make herself do it.  She realized now, seeing her Mother, that keeping silent for so long had been a mistake.  In absence of any information to the contrary, Amanda had assumed the worst.

Amanda grabbed Peggy’s hand, holding it tightly, tears in her eyes.  “I’m just so relieved you’re safe.”

Peggy nodded.  “Quite safe.  Now sit.”

Amanda nodded, but pressed a kiss to both Peggy and Steve’s cheeks before she finally sat down.

They shared a meal together.  Bucky, Phillips and Erskine were there as well.  Amanda asked so many questions.  Peggy did her best to answer them in a way that would not cause Amanda undue anguish.  Erskine was a help with that, deflecting where he could.  

Peggy found that there were parts of her life she could gladly share.  She told Amanda how she’d learned to be a healer, a midwife.  She told Amanda of the distant places she visited, the kindness of strangers she met.

Steve said very little.  They were sitting around the huge dining table.  Steve and Peggy were seated right next to one another and Steve kept subtly maneuvering Peggy so that she was more on his chair than her own.

Over the course of the afternoon, people came and went.  Peggy felt a bit like she was holding court.  There was a constant stream of visitors.  Late in the afternoon, several of the Bishop’s guard knocked on the door, asking to see Steve.  It was a tense time.  He was only gone for a few moments and returned tight lipped.  Peggy finally managed to pry out of him that the guardsmen wanted Steve to return, as the Captain.  

There was more food, along with wine.  Steve finally leaned over and whispered in Peggy’s ear.  “It’s night.”

Peggy glanced at the window, dumbfounded.  She honestly couldn’t remember the last time that the rising or setting of the sun hadn’t ruled her life.  And yet, this evening, with Steve at her side, she hadn’t even realized that the sun had slipped beyond the horizon.

When both she and Steve were finished eating supper, Peggy pushed her chair back from the table, stood up and announced, “We’re going to bed.”

Amanda looked scandalized.  Peggy’s stepfather was pretending he hadn’t heard.  And Bucky was doing his best to smother his laughter.

Peggy could hear her mother making apologies to assorted visitors as Peggy dragged Steve toward the stairs.  Her old room was waiting, having been made up by the maids.  There was a fire in the grate and fresh linens on the bed.

Steve shut and locked the door, reaching for her.  “You made an awful lot of promises in that book,” Steve said, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he spoke.  “You planning on making good on them?”

Peggy pulled back far enough to smile up at him wickedly.  

He laughed, holding her tight.

Despite the enthusiasm with which Peggy had announced their departure, she found that once they were alone she was nervous.  Which was ridiculous, especially considering her actions directly after the curse had been broken - and, as Steve pointed out, the things she’d written in their book.  And yet, face to face with her husband after so many years, Peggy felt like a nervous young bride.

From beneath, her lashes, Peggy glanced up at Steve.  To her shock, she saw the same tentativeness echoed in his features.  She let out a shaky laugh.  “We’re worse than newlyweds.”

He laughed softly, but nodded.  Taking a breath, his expression sobered and he cupped her cheek in his hand.  For a long time, they just looked at one another.  Lifting her hand, Peggy traced her fingertips along the edge of his face.  He sighed, turning into the contact, pressing a kiss in the center of her palm.

“I love you, wife,” he said softly.

She blinked quickly against the hot burn of tears.  The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, so she nodded.

They undressed each other slowly, carefully.  Beneath the covers in the bed, they spent a long time simply touching, mapping one another’s bodies.  When they finally joined, it was slow, cautious, each of them attentive to the slightest response from the other.  But as their passion built, raw hunger finally won out over any tentativeness and they moved together with singular purpose.

Afterward, in the dark, they curled together, still touching and kissing.

Clearing her throat, Peggy asked, “What did the guardsmen want?”

Steve was quiet for a moment.  “They want me to serve as Captain.”

Peggy was quiet.  She knew it would be some time before a new Bishop was appointed to Aquila.  The city needed stability and if today’s reception was any indication, Steve certainly seemed to have popular appeal.  There was no telling who the new Bishop would be.  Odds were he couldn’t be worse than Pierce.  If they stayed in Aquila, they could lead lives of privilege and ease.

“Is that what you want?” she asked.

He was silent.  “What do you want?”

Peggy considered her words.  “I realize it may take some time to reacquaint myself with living among people,” she said.  “But I want freedom.  I don’t like the city, or its walls.  I don’t like the idea of you enforcing a Bishop’s whims.”

He chuckled, sounding relieved.  “Me either.”  He squeezed her tight.

They made love again, less tentative, more playful.  Later, as Peggy was drifting off to sleep, she tried to commit to memory the feel of her husband’s arms around her, his naked skin against hers.  She threaded her fingers through his.  “I love you, husband.  Always.”

  
  


END CHAPTER


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

 

**THREE YEARS LATER**

 

Steve had been up since well before dawn.  Phillips, with his endless meddling, conscripted Steve to help Marco and Aurelia rebuild their barn.  There had been a fire, the previous fall and the structure was a complete loss.  Phillips, as the proud shepherd of his little flock, arranged for every able bodied man in the parish to assist with the rebuilding.  The days had been unbearably hot, so they had started very early.

The work was far from done, but Steve had a promise to keep.  He wondered at the turn his life had taken.  He and Peggy had left Aquila, not long after Bishop’s demise.  Amanda hadn’t been happy about it, but now that she knew Peggy was safe - and had secured Peggy’s promise to keep in touch - she was more at ease.

Steve and Peggy had spent the spring and summer traveling, searching for a place they could call home.  They finally settled for a small village, many days north of Aquila.  It was an out of the way place, quiet and close knit.  Phillips and Erskine had followed.  Steve wasn’t sure if it was lingering guilt, or if they simply didn’t know what else to do with themselves.  But like Steve and Peggy, Erskine and Phillips both seemed to find place and purpose in their new home.

Peggy studied closely with Erskine, adding to her already considerable knowledge of the healing arts.  Steve spent most of that first summer trying to figure out what to do with himself.  He’d been a soldier for so long, and then a wanderer, that he wasn’t sure what else he could do.  After a considerable amount of trial and error, Steve realized he still had considerable aptitude toward arts.  Peggy was the one who had first encouraged him, having seen the numerous sketches he’d done over the years, in their book.  He could draw and paint.  The commissions were hit or miss.  He often supplemented his income by designing structures - like Marco’s new barn.

The sky was turning pink and orange as Steve ascended the little hill where their cottage sat.  As he walked up the path, the front door burst open and the little girl bounded outside.  Steve stopped, watching.  Behind her, the sun was just cresting the horizon.

She saw him and smiled brightly.  “Papa!”

She ran for him and Steve leaned down, scooping her in his arms.  Her arms went around his neck and she giggled.  Steve kissed her cheek and walked in the cottage.

He found Peggy sitting at the worn kitchen worktable, making notes in the book as she studied several bundles of dried herbs.  Steve set his bag on the table, containing the plants he’d collected for Peggy earlier.

Peggy smiled up at him and he leaned down for a kiss.  She dumped the contents of the bag out on the table and frowned.

Looking at her, Steve asked, “Is that not what you wanted?”  She’d given him very specific instructions as to what plants to gather.  Most of them, Steve knew, were to prevent pregnancies. Birth control and midwifery tended to constitute the bulk of Peggy’s business.

“Oh, no,” she said, giving him a wry smile.  “This is what I wanted.”

He frowned.

“It’s just a bit late,” she said, her hand going to her abdomen.  “I should have locked you in the barn when I ran out last month.”

He arched an eyebrow.

She smiled up at him.  “Yes, husband,” she said.  “We’re having another one.”

Steve tugged at her hand, urging her to stand and pulled her against him.  Sandwiched between them, their daughter laughed.

 

END STORY


End file.
